Thief in the Night
by JaquieLemonLime
Summary: The Guild needed help, that was for damn sure. With Lady Luck no longer on their side, the Thieves' Guild is close to extinction. Brynjolf knows this better than anyone else. Maybe a shadow dwelling stranger can help keep them afloat.
1. Help

It was morning in the city of Riften, with few to no people walking down the streets. Unless they were working their stands or standing guard, no one was out. It was still too early for anyone to be ready to trade away what money they had for jewels, or in Brynjolf's case, fake miracle potions. Yes, it was too early indeed.

This was why the sight of a stranger had claimed his attention for a long time now; for the reason of the early hour and the fact that they didn't get very many visitors here in Riften. Sure, they got the average trader here and there, but this kind of stranger didn't wander into town.

It was a lass, he could tell that much by the way the light leather armor clung to her body. Sure, he'd noticed it because he was a charmer, but at least it was giving him a hint as to who this woman could be. She was of average height, maybe half a foot shorter than Brynjolf if he had to guess, with a small chest and a slender waist. He'd taken the time to admire her body.

However, he couldn't see her face for two reasons. One, because she had a hood pulled over her head and a mask across her mouth, and two, because she was keeping her thin form tight to the shadows. He almost hadn't spotted her, but he had very sharp eyes, being a part of the Thieves' Guild and all, however if it had been night, he might have missed her completely.

So as he waited for the very gullible citizens, he watched the unknown woman with fascination. Her walk was almost like that of a saber cat, the way she was stalking around and watching the few people go by. If he hadn't seen the bow on her back, he would have thought her to be an assassin. Assassins just didn't go around in plain sight to kill someone with a bow.

Before Bryn had time to questions again what she was doing in Riften, said woman slid up next to him. She was standing in his personal area, right by his side, and not in front of him. No one would know she was talking to him unless they heard her speaking.

"You've been watching me for some time now," she said lowly. Her voice was a little rough, which was surprising because he was suspecting a touch of honey from her throat.

"We don't get many strangers here lass, I'm sorry if you pulled my interest."

There was a slight uplift in the woman's mask and Brynjolf could only guess she was smirking at him. He gave her a charming side smile to show her that he wasn't a threat.

"I'll take your apology if you'll give me some information."

Brynjolf barked out a laugh that caught the attention of the traders and the people that were starting to come out of their homes. Breaking the illusion that they didn't know each other, the red haired Nord turned to face the smaller woman. Looking into her shadowed eyes, he saw that they were a very deep blue.

"Information, huh? I'm sorry lass, but I don't give out information for free. However, if you do a little job for me, I'd be inclined to tell you anything you want to know."

"A job, huh? As long as it's simple, I think I can do it for you."

Brynjolf grinned at her with his handsome smile. "Great, because I really need that other pair of hands. I'm going to distract the crowd with my new miracle potion. What I need you to do is steal the ring out of that man's strong box," he explained, pointing to an Argonian man's stall, "and plant the ring on that elf over there."

"That's it?" the mysterious woman questioned, her eyebrows cocked in questioned. Brynjolf stopped the grin that wanted to break out on his face.

"That's all, if you think you can pull it off lass."

"You just start weaving those magic words and I'll do as you ask," she said before turning to walk away. He watched her hips sway for a moment before he cleared his throat to call everyone's attention.

"Great people of Riften, would you all grant me your attention for a few moments?"

"What 'miracle potion' do you have for the people this time Bryn? More sewer water and wheat?" Madesi sighed, though it came out as a hiss. Brynjolf just gave him his infamous smile and waved him over.

"Come here and I'll tell you exactly what it does!"

He soon had the attention of every possible threat to the woman, even the few guards that were walking around the merchandise stalls. His eyes flicked over to Madesi's stall, which was empty, but if he looked close enough he could tell there was an unwanted shadow added to that of the cart. He smirked and kept talking. He didn't know how long she needed, so he described the bogus potion in very detailed manner.

He was just getting into the effects of the potion and how much it cost when he saw the woman weaving through the crowd then leave it. To the people that had watched her, it was almost like she had taken the difficult path through them all for no reason. However, Brand-Shei was in the middle of that group.

The red haired Nord finished his speech as quickly as he could, collecting a good amount of gold from the desperate and gullible people of Riften, then searched around for his little partner in crime. He felt something behind him and turned to see her walking up, her hands folded in front of her like she was an innocent little girl.

"I do hope the job was completed," he questioned, turning his head to the side. She scoffed and rolled her dark blue eyes.

"Just watch."

They both stood to watch as the Riften guards were called by Madesi and sent over to Brand-Shei. He was completely oblivious to how the ring had ended up in his pocket, but the guards were having none of it. The elf was taken to the jail cell still kicking and protesting.

"You did it lass! And quite amazingly, I might add. You deserve your half of the coin."

The woman caught the coin purse that he threw with one hand, putting it into one of the pockets she had in her leather armor while the handsome man continued on.

"If I do say so myself, you'd be good material for a guild of mine. One I'm sure you've heard of—"

"The Thieves Guild," she said shortly, cutting him off. He smirked; so she had heard of him.

"That it is lass. Tell you what, if you can make it to the Ragged Flagon tonight, I'll grant you a spot with us."

"If I can make it?" she asked curiously.

"There are some pretty rotten things to fight off to get there; I say 'if' so you know how dangerous it is."

"I accept your challenge," the woman said.

"Excellent! Then I will hopefully see you there…"

"Maeva," the dark clad woman replied.

"Then I will see you in the Ragged Flagon Maeva. Now, what information did you need from me?"

The large man could almost feel her smirk against his skin as she started to back up slowly. "You've already given me everything I needed, Brynjolf. I'll see you and your kin in the Ragged Flagon."

Brynjolf watched her walk away, feeling flabbergasted. The lass had known who he was the entire time? And if so, did that mean she knew who he had belonged to previously? That little devil. The Nord chuckled to himself, shaking his head and went back to his stall to sell more potions.


	2. Unmasked

"Honestly Bryn, another new whelp? That's the third one this month! I used to trust your judgment on such things, but after the failure of the last two, I don't know what to think anymore." Vex, the ever complaining woman, stood against the cold stone wall as she glared daggers into Brynjolf's chest.

He ignored her boldly stated claims and sipped at his mead at one of the tables in the Ragged Flagon. Delvin was sitting across from him with his head resting atop his hands. He had voiced the same concerns as Vex but calmer.

"I'm telling you Vexy, she's better than all the rest combined. I saw her work first hand and if I hadn't known what she was doing, I'd never have noticed it."

"I bet the only reason you saw her in the first place is because of her looks," the blonde woman muttered, pushing herself off the wall to finally join the two men in their talk.

"Oh, is that true Bryn? Did you finally bring the guild a good looking woman?"

Vex took the liberty of punching the older man in the arm rather hard, which the pervert deserved, and Brynjolf laughed. "While she did have a body, which is small and perfect for our kinds of jobs, I didn't see her face."

Rubbing his now sore arm, Delvin gave his superior a strange look. "What do you mean you never saw her face? For Talos' sake, you talked to her face to face did you not?"

Finishing off his mead, Brynjolf wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he replied to the thirds. "I did speak to her, but she was wearing a hood and a mask that covered everything except for eyes."

"Well isn't that a damned shame. Maybe she'll let me take more than just her mask off," Delvin barked out with a laugh. Vex glared at him but didn't punch him in the arm; she was too used to these kinds of comments.

"You men are disgusting."

An hour passed like this, with the men making enough dirty comments to drive Vex to another part of the Flagon. A few other members of the Guild came by to talk or ask them what they were doing, but it was mostly just the two men drinking.

"Bryn, do you think maybe she ain't comin'? There are some vicious thugs out there in the Ratway; there's a chance the woman didn't make it."

Brynjolf sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe, I just thought that—"

"Can I help you?" Dirge huffed out rather loud and rudely. Almost everyone in the Flagon turned to see what was going on and Brynjolf grinned. Standing in front of the beast of a man was Maeva.

"Let the woman through man, I invited her down here."

With an intimidating glance and what sounded like a growl, Dirge let the woman through. Maeva passed him as if he hadn't been threatening her a second ago and walked over to Brynjolf. Delvin was having a hard time keeping his eyes on anything other than her body.

"I'm glad you made it lass, I was starting to worry that someone else had bested you in a fight."

"I was just taking my time sniping them from their posts, sorry if I made you wait," Maeva's rough voice sounded, drawing the elder man's eyes back up to hers.

"You were worth the wait love."

"Don't mind Delvin, lass. He's third in command, joint with our little Vexy over there, and he's got himself quite a dirty mind. Vex, get your ass over here and at least try to act decent to our newest recruit."

Maeva's dark blue eyes watched as an exasperated blonde woman made her way over, her eyes narrowed in the new woman's presence.

"You still have to talk to Mercer about this Brynjolf. We're barely able to take care of ourselves as it is, we might not be able to afford her services."

"Now don't tell me I did all that killing for nothing," Maeva teased in her rough voice. Brynjolf chuckled and turned to the blonde third.

"Now try not to be snarky Vex, I know it's hard for you. I doubt that Mercer will turn down a good thief, and I'm telling you, she's good. We'll wait until Mercer gets back and see what he thinks."

Vex rolled her eyes, looking unimpressed and un-amused, but that wasn't much of a change from her usual mood. She didn't speak another word, just turned around and headed to one of the darker corners of the Ragged Flagon.

"She doesn't seem to like me," Maeva admitted behind her mask, watching the blonde for a moment before turning back to the men. Delvin just shrugged his shoulders and ordered himself another drink.

"Vex isn't really a people person; she barely likes us as it is."

"And it doesn't help that our beloved Guild is as ruined as our underground Keep," the red head sighed.

"I had heard the Thieves Guild was something to be feared and respected, but looking at it now, I can tell that you're in dire need of help," Maeva replied, pushing out a chair to sit with the second and third.

"With 'was' being the key word in that statement," Delvin muttered angrily, digging his nails into the metal goblet.

Brynjolf understood the man's frustration and anger, but could only come up with sorrow in his own mind. He had joined this place when he was just a lad starting off with excellent skills at a young age. If you had what they were looking for, the Thieves Guild was the place to appreciate you and give you riches, as well as a family. But over the years, the family had broken apart from deaths and betrayal. The Ragged Flagon was only a ghost of its former glory.

"I guess that's what I'm here to help with," the woman said, calling attention to her, "Bring in the gold flow and remind the people of Riften that they have something to worry about at night."

Delvin instantly laughed and slammed his goblet on the table. His foul mood had been blown away by her bold and hopeful words. "You are a special kind of woman."

Maeva laughed roughly and nodded her head. "A lot of people say the same thing."

"Vekel, come and bring this lass a cup of your finest mead! I believe it's time to celebrate the welcoming of our newest member, and hopefully, our lucky charm," Brynjolf purred, moving his eyes to look at Maeva.

The bartender did as was asked, though he didn't stay around long to ask questions. The three table mates raised their goblets in cheers before they took a drink.

The two men downed half of their drink in one large gulp, but it had blocked their eyesight from anything else. When they placed the cups back on the wooden table with a satisfying "thunk", a sight caught their eyes.

During their drinks, Maeva had pushed the hood back and had yanked the mask to her chest, completely exposing her previously mysterious face. Delvin smiled in the way he was fond of when around a pretty woman and Brynjolf almost choked on his own spit.

Maeva was a Breton, which was easy to tell from the way her face was sculpted so smoothly. Her face was slim, like the rest of her body, and slightly pale as if the mask didn't come off much. Her cheeks and nose were dusted with light freckles that gave her character. As well, her straight and silver hair fell slightly into her face, hiding one dark blue eye. All in all, the woman was gorgeous.

Something that raised questions, however, was the vicious looking scars she supported. One along her bottom lip that had healed well enough that it didn't disfigure the plump skin, but left a trail of raised skin. The other was much more eye catching and created curiosity in an instant. The scar was a ragged line across the front of Maeva's neck, as if someone had meant to slit her throat from behind but hadn't gotten far enough to kill her.

Some men here in Riften would have dismissed her because of her imperfections, because for some Skyrim men, woman had to be sweet, docile, and perfect. However, here in the Thieves guild, scars meant stories and experience. If you didn't have some kind of chip on your shoulder, you didn't belong here.

"Oh thank Talos for Brynjolf's choice in thieves," Delvin muttered, slowly scooting closer to the silver-haired woman. She just grinned at them both and finished off her drink.

* * *

Mercer wasn't thrilled about the addition of another person, not like he would have been if the Guild had been stronger, but with a little bit of encouraging from Brynjolf's part, and a thumbs up from Delvin, Mercer reluctantly said she could stay. Mostly to the male third's delight. He made sure to stay by her side as much as possible when she was in the Flagon.

The Nord was surprised that she hadn't shot him with one of her arrows with the way he talked to her, but she really didn't seem to mind. Most the time she just laughed it off in that rough voice she possessed and sent back something even more vulgar, which Brynjolf never thought would be possible.

Vex hadn't grown any fonder of the new woman, even with Mercer's consent, but that was just Vex's way; Dirge was almost the male version of the blonde woman. Maeva wasn't very concerned with them, however; she had enough friends here to know that she was welcomed.

Maeva started off with a few simple tasks of hunting down debts to the guild, which she did splendidly. The three debtors had come to Bryn that afternoon with the money, looking a little bit scared and flustered—except for Keerava, who had some blood stained on the scales of her face. The red head had taken the gold with a small smirk on his face.

When Brynjolf came back to the Flagon, he was surprised to see that Mercer had left his post at the Cistern and wandered over to the Ragged Flagon. Though, whenever he left his little area, it was never for a good reason. At the moment, he was standing at Delvin's drinking table, leaning over it in a threatening manner. Vex was red faced with anger as she sat in her little corner. It looked like she was shaking she was so furious.

"What's the problem Mercer?" Brynjolf questioned, trying to save Delvin from the old man's evil eye. He turned it to the Nord, but the third looked happy it wasn't him anymore.

"Our dilemma, Brynjolf, is the Goldenglow Estate. Maven is on my ass about it all, and when I sent Vex two weeks ago to finish it, I thought it would be over. I didn't think she'd come back here as a failure. Best infiltrator my ass."

Brynjolf glanced over at the blonde to see her fists clenched. He wouldn't have been surprised if blood spilled because of her nails against her skin. He had never seen her so livid in all his days here.

"Now Mercer, that's not a fair thing to say to our Vexy. Aringoth is a coward who has hired mercenaries to take care of anyone who tries to get close to him. You couldn't have expected the lass to get in through there unseen and get away with it. She was lucky she didn't lose her life."

"Being a thief means being unseen, being sneaky, being better than the rest," Mercer all but hissed, "It's what was expected of our predecessors, it should still be expected of us."

That was Mercer's real problem. He was the Guild Master of a guild that had once been a great and flourishing group, where the standards were high. When they had fallen from the graces of their Lady Luck, things turned upside down. Many died, and the ones who didn't left. Now the ones that remained had the world on their shoulders, as if they alone could bring the Guild back to its former glory.

It was at this inopportune time that Maeva decided to come in. Vex had sent her to do a menial job of stealing and replacing, almost like the first job she had worked with Brynjolf. She had come into the Flagon to report back to Vex. Unfortunately, Mercer spotted her as soon as she stepped into the dim light of the underground pub.

"Speaking of, I still expect to see these traits from your recruit Brynjolf. You insured me she was ten times better than the last mutts you picked up. Wouldn't this be the perfect time to see how good her skills are?"

"Are you suggesting she takes up the Goldenglow Estate job by herself?" Delvin asked, giving the man an incredulous look.

"I'm not suggesting, this is an order," the older man said, making up his mind. Vex, however, had had enough of this foolish talk.

"You can't be bloody serious Mercer! I barely got out of their alive, and I am your third. You expect this newborn to be able to do what I couldn't?"

"I'll do it," Maeva's rough voice said, catching everyone by surprise. Her dark blue eyes were narrowed, the only thing you could see behind her mask and hood, but they all imagined her mouth was in a straight line.

"Lass, you don't have to," Brynjolf started, even if he was contradicting what his leader was saying, "Mercer is just in one of his usual bad moods and—"

"I want to do it Bryn," she said, using his nickname, "no one here seems to think I have that much potential as a thief, so this will be the perfect opportunity. If I make it back, then I'll be a respected member. If I don't, well, you won't have to worry about this whelp anymore."

Brynjolf didn't like the way she was so easily dismissing her life, speaking of it as if it was something as menial as a single piece of gold. Though, it wasn't like he could deny her from doing it, because she volunteered herself and would be the woman to be stubborn enough not to back down.

"Then it's settled, our little babe will take this job," Mercer said, sounding a little snide, "Why don't you three fill her in on the details so she can get to it? Don't want to waste Maven's time."

With that said, Mercer left the Flagon to go take his place back in the Cistern. The whole room was silent until the door closed loudly behind him. As soon as his negative presence was gone, Brynjolf turned to look at Maeva, who was walking towards their drinking table.

"It was nice knowing you," Vex muttered, sitting down in one of the chairs while unfolding the map of the Estate. Maeva gave the blonde a dirty look, but didn't reply to the jest. She just pushed the hood off her head and let her mask rest against her neck. Bryn admired her face for a moment or two then reminded himself of what he was supposed to be doing.

"Unless you want to know about the background of the Estate, we're not going to back that far. Maven is an impatient woman, and we've already made her wait long enough. We'll give you the basic details, which should be enough to keep you alive," Delvin started, for the first time since knowing Maeva being serious as could be.

"Goldenglow Estate is a bee farm, where they raise the wretched little things for honey. The smart-mouth who owns it is a wood elf named Aringoth. We need you to go in there and teach him a lesson by burning down some of the hives, as well as cleaning out his safe in the main house."

"Sounds easy enough," Maeva said softly, licking her lips, "What's the catch that makes it so difficult?"

"The catch is that you can't burn the whole place to the ground," Vex stepped in, her voice calmer than it was before, though she still sounded miffed, "Maven would be furious if you did."

"Alright, I know how to control a fire. What should I do about Aringoth?"

"Maven prefers that Aringoth remains alive, but if he tries to stop you from getting the job done, kill him," Delvin said, putting it simply.

"The only other thing you have to worry about is the mercenaries," Bryn muttered, looking Maeva directly in her dark blue eyes so she knew he meant his words, "They don't take prisoners."

"Last time I was in there, there were eight of them. I only managed to take down two before I couldn't continue on," Vex snarled, "but anyway, the best way to get in there is to take the old sewer tunnel that dumps into the lake on the northwest side of the island. And you better be a strong swimmer, because that's the only way you're even going to make it to the island."

"I'm a fair swimmer," Maeva replied, though it had no feeling to it. Brynjolf had a feeling she was just trying to get along with Vex.

"Then I think that's all you need to know lass. The rest of it is all up to you."

Maeva smiled, making the scar on her lip stretch, but it was gorgeous either way. "May Lady Luck smile upon me on this mission, aye?"

With that, she put back on her mask and hood, becoming that unidentifiable woman again, and turned her back on the three. She followed the same door Mercer had left through, though this time, no one relaxed when she left.

"I hope she doesn't get herself killed," Del said, actually sounding worried.

"Guess we'll just have to pray for her."

Vex didn't say the same, but she didn't say anything negative either. That was her good luck to the woman.


	3. Wait

Waiting had always been the hardest thing to endure when it came to the Thieves Guild. The time while a member of your family was away could eat at you and make time feel like it had almost stopped. The only thing that Brynjolf and his companions could do was busy themselves with hallucinations from mead or with risky pickpocketing jobs.

Maeva had left for Goldenglow Estate almost right after she had gathered all the information. The only thing she had to do was gather her supplies and wait for nightfall, which came quickly. It was afternoon of the next day and Bryn was worried. Not that he had the time to show the worry for the woman when he was trying to convince himself and Mercer that this job hadn't been too much for her. It became harder and harder the longer she was absent.

The sun in Riften was starting to set when Brynjolf headed back to the Ragged Flagon. He had been waiting around by the gates to see if the woman would walk through them, but she never did. Hell, no one came through the gates that day.

Dejected and feeling like a complete fool for finding what he thought had been a good thief, Brynjolf walked to the very back of Riften to go through the secret entrance of the Cistern. He barely said hello to his fellow members and was thankful when he didn't see Mercer at his station staring him down.

When he finally made it into the Flagon, the Nord fell into a chair next to Delvin; he looked as miserable as Brynjolf felt. The two Bretons had managed to make some kind of bond over mead, ale, and wit and it seemed to have left the older man at a loss for what to do. Del sighed and pushed his goblet away from him, a first in his life.

"This is why you don't let strays into your life," he mumbled, "They have a way of breaking your little heart when they leave."

"Delvin, if I didn't know you loved women so much, I would guess you would be in love with the lass."

"She's beautiful, witty, and a thief. It's hard not to love someone almost exactly like myself."

Brynjolf smiled for the first time in a while and settled in his seat. Vekel came to his side and placed ale in front of him without a word. He must have looked bad if he was getting advice to drink his pain away.

Even Vex seemed uncharacteristically quiet today, and it even shocked the two men when she decided to sit at their table, though she didn't drink with them. They all sat in silence for a while until the blonde Imperial spoke.

"Mercer was an idiot to send her on that mission."

"Talos only knows what he was thinking," Delvin almost growled, "If he expects the guild to raise itself up this way, he's got another thing coming. Sending our recruits on suicide missions will only hurt us. I'm just sorry Maeva had to be his example."

"I assume I'll have to start going through new blood again. I might have to import from other major cities."

"Don't be counting me out just yet Bryn."

Hearing the voice of what the three would have called a ghost, the table turned their heads to the Flagon entrance to see Maeva stumbling in. She wasn't walking by herself, however, because Rune had one of her arms across his shoulder and was helping her walk over to his superiors. Her mask and hood were down, revealing that she had a nasty burn on the right side of her face, and there was a large blood stain on the Imperial man's side from some hidden wound.

Delvin was the first one to get up to go to the woman, taking her other arm and dragging her over to his vacant chair. They softly settled her into it and she grinned at them, though mostly at the younger man.

"Thank you Rune, you're a lovely man for helping me out."

Rune had the decency to blush for the injured Breton. "You're a sister in crime now Maeva, we all help each other out."

"Enough talk Maeva, you're injured and you didn't even bother to heal yourself," Brynjolf scolded, placing his hand on her side and coming away with a full handprint of blood.

"I only had enough healing potions to heal the arrow punctures," Maeva rebutted, glaring at the concerned Nord, "I was perfectly fine with my burns until I swam to another shore and came across some bandits. They're the ones that sliced me open."

"Del, go get some healing potions and a wet rag to clean this wound with," Brynjolf ordered. The Breton did as he was told and scurried off faster than he had in years.

"Now, this might sound like Delvin talking, but I need you to take off your light armor so we can get this fixed up."

Vex and Maeva snorted at the same time, though the silver haired Breton found it amusing while Vex's noise was of disbelief. Bryn gave them both looks. "What?"

Vex just shook her head and walked off, muttering something about men and their little minds. Brynjolf turned his green eyes back to Maeva to see her smirking at him.

"Aren't you a little forward, you haven't even taken me out yet."

He laughed and tsked at her, pulling at the black leather. "Bleeding out but you still have time to jest. Come on lass, let me clean you up."

They both worked together to get the tight fitting leather off the top of her body, with Maeva cringing every now and then when it bit at the sensitive wound. By the time they had gotten the top off, Delvin and Vex had returned to the two with all the supplies Bryn had asked for and more.

"I would comment on your lovely body, but I'm sorely distracted by that bloody wound," the male Breton commented, kneeling down to place a bucket of fire warmed water on the ground. Maeva's entire torso was covered in blood because for some time, the blood could only collect inside the top. You could barely see the taunt skin of her muscled stomach.

"You men sure are charmers," the blue eyed woman laughed, though her voice was slightly pained.

"Here, drink this," Vex ordered, handing the woman an uncorked health potion. She hadn't said anything snarky, so Maeva didn't retaliate; just drank the bitter potion and felt warmth inside her belly.

"Wow, I've never had this powerful of a healing potion," she whispered, starting to feel its effects as the blood flow started to stop. Bryn took this time to wet the cloth and start to wipe gently at the gash. Delvin followed his lead with another rag and wiped the blood off from her stomach.

"What happened to the bandits that did this to you lass?"

Maeva locked her dark blue eyes with Brynjolf's and he saw them hard as stone. "They're all dead."

"Good" was his reply.

"As I'm sure that Maeva is going to make it, maybe we should remember our place and ask her what happened on the job?" Vex's snotty voiced asked, catching everyone's attention; everyone meaning all the guild members who had flocked to see the injured woman. Now they were all waiting with a baited breath to hear what the thief had to say.

"Mission's complete, though no one is ever going to be hearing from Aringoth ever again," Maeva said and the energy in the room increased tenfold. All the eavesdroppers had huge grins on their faces and had to contain themselves from shouting out in happiness. The Goldenglow Estate job had actually been completed.

"And what of his mercenaries?" Vex asked, grinding her teeth so she could stop herself from saying something she would regret. Everyone could tell she was angry because of the fact a whelp had done what she couldn't, but the information was more important at this moment.

"They stayed alive when I went into the house, but when I started to burn the hives they saw the smoke and came after me. I had no choice but to kill them then."

"Good riddance to them anyway," the blonde grumbled, "Is that where the burns on your face came from?"

Maeva hissed as Brynjolf went a little too deep in her wound, but didn't look at anyone else but the female third. "While I was knifing one, another had gotten a flaming board and smacked me in the face with it."

"By the Eight, these mercenaries don't mess around," Delvin swore, finally having cleaned off the blood on Maeva's body, "My alchemy abilities aren't that great, but I think I'll be able to get something for that."

Maeva grinned up at the bald Breton. "That would be lovely Delvin, thank you."

He gave her his own smirk back then turned around and started to shoo the rest of the thieves away, who were more than happy to scatter so they could gossip about what they had been told. They were worse than young girls.

Brynjolf had been very involved in cleaning Maeva's wound, looking at the way it had cut so easily into her, but was forced to stop when he felt her eyes burning into his down turned head. He looked up to see her dark blue eyes very serious.

"What's with that look lass?"

"I found something else while I was there, something I think you need to look at."

The way she said it made the red head gulp and he watched as she reached into the bag at her side, rummaging around in it, before taking out something. The item in her hand was a folded up document with a broken seal, looking very professional. He took it from her hand, leaving her to hold the rag against her side, and started to read what the letter said.

"Aringoth sold Goldenglow?" he said, in disbelief. Vex heard that and stalked over, taking the letter from his hands so she could read it as well.

"Who is it from?" she questioned once she finished.

"I haven't a clue, there's just that symbol at the bottom. I was hoping that someone here would know what it meant," Maeva replied, uncorking herself another healing potion and downing it in one gulp.

"I don't know who sent it either," Brynjolf sighed, taking the paper from Vex and folding it up, "but I'll ask some resources of mine for information; we're bound to come up with something."

"When do you plan on telling Mercer about it?" Vex questioned.

"Go tell him that Maeva's back and we'll inform him of it when he makes his appearance." Vex just nodded and walked off. When she was gone, Bryn turned his attention back to Maeva and started to unwind some bandages.

The second healing potion had helped heal the gash even better to the point where it was mostly just a large scab on her side, though it was red and irritated. Besides that, there were other scars on the woman's stomach that were old enough to be whiter than her skin. Maeva saw the Nord's questioning look and chuckled.

"That was a bear."

"You've seen some dangers here in Skyrim, lass."

"You have no idea," the silver haired woman muttered, touching the scar on her neck. Brynjolf's green eyes caught the motion and he wondered whether he should inquire about it, but his curiosity would always get the better of him.

"How did you end up with that scar lass?"

Maeva's pale hand instantly dropped down to her side as soon as she realized she had been touching it and looked at Brynjolf again. She smiled at him, but even a blind fool could tell it was a fake.

"Maybe I'll share that story with you some time, but right now you need to patch me up, aye?"

The red head forced a chuckle and nodded his head. He did as he was told and carefully wound the bandage around her torso, covering the wound tight enough so she wouldn't hurt it with strenuous activity. After, he helped her back into her armor even if it was bloody.

"I'll get Tonilia to get you some of our armor until you get yours fixed."

"Thank you Bryn."


	4. Scars

"You've got to admit it at some point Vex."

"Delvin, will you never stop pestering me over the smallest and trivial things? Every woman is entitled to her own damned opinion."

"Delvin's right lass, there's no need to be bitter towards your new sister in crime," Brynjolf teased, his eyes alight with a mischievous fire and his smirk turned towards the blonde.

"I'm not bitter," Vex snapped, folding her arms tighter against her chest.

"She told me of how you cornered her on her way back from a little heist and told her that she wasn't here to replace you," Delvin backed up, cocking one eyebrow at the blonde, "Tell me, what part of that is not bitter?"

"I was putting the new blood in her place."

Brynjolf and Delvin shared a glance over the table before shrugging their shoulders at the same time. With an infuriated huff, Vex left the table—which she did quite often in their presence—and went to go join Tonilia on the deck.

Delvin laughed softly and sipped from his mead. "One of these days she's going to violently kill us for the torture we put her through."

Brynjolf barked out a laugh and clinked goblets with Delvin; he could agree to exactly that.

However, they could understand Vex's frustration. She had been in this guild since childhood, and even when the Cistern had been bursting with great thieves, she had always been the go to girl when it came to infiltration and stealth. Years had gone by and it had never changed. Then Maeva came along and did something the Imperial woman could not. It would have irked anyone, though Vex was quick to anger in any situation.

But Maeva was good, and just because she had been upped didn't give Vex the right to ignore and snub the Breton. Not that the scarred woman minded. She was pleasantly calm when it came to Vex's blatant insults, which only angered the third more. Unless it was something really bad, Maeva just ignored it and tried to act professional, something Vex wasn't doing.

"Where is our little thief anyway? I heard that Mercer was going to give her a job in Whiterun soon."

"Last I saw of her, she was in the Cistern training room," Brynjolf wondered, "And I have nothing better to do, so why don't I just get my arse to work and find her for my dear leader?"

Delvin silently laughed into his mug and waved the younger man away, calling for Vex to come back to him. Brynjolf chuckled as he walked out of the Ragged Flagon. Mercer, once again, wasn't at his station, which confused the Nord, but he stuck to his mission of finding the female Breton. He said hello to Rune along the way, passing by him on the way to the training room.

He heard the Breton before he actually saw her, and the sounds he heard weren't all coming from her. Sometimes he would hear small breaths forcefully coming out of her mouth, then he would hear the sound of the arrow hitting the mark.

As carefully as he could, Brynjolf snuck into the room and sat in the dark corners as he watched Maeva in wonderment. Her quiver was filled to the brim with arrows, but she was shooting them out at a frighteningly fast rate.

She had three targets; two on the floor that were a few feet away from each other and one that the guild had placed on a high ledge. She was taking turns to which ones she was shooting and it took him a moment to realize that she was hitting all the "vital" areas of the hay dummies.

"That's quite an aim you got there lass."

A girly squeak left the Breton's mouth out of shock and Maeva whipped around, an arrow notched in her bow and pointed at him. He was looking a very sharp looking glass bow in the face, but an amused grin from the sound she made took over his face.

"Brynjolf!" the blue eyed woman exclaimed, "By the Nine! I almost shot you right in the face."

"I'm sorry lass, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up," the accused red head purred, his smile growing even bigger.

"Now I understand Vex's constant behavior around you and Delvin," she muttered, turning around and letting the ready arrow speed right into the middle of the hay dummy's head.

"We believe she secretly likes it," Bryn replied, watching as Maeva walked over to start pulling out her glass arrows, "But that is besides the point lass. You're a wicked archer."

"I've worked on it since I was a little girl, I would hope I was good."

Brynjolf chuckled and continued to watch the backside of Maeva as she finished plucking the last useful arrow to replenish her quiver. It was only then that she turns around to look at him.

Her face was completely open to him, one of the few times that she didn't have her mask and hood on. The scars on her neck and lip were painfully obvious for how pale they were, but in their own way, they were a beauty. Scars are a tale on a man's face, and they usually don't provoke such curiosity in Brynjolf, but seeing that long, white scar always brought the question of its origin to his mind. Instead, he looked at her left side where her healing wound was.

"How is your side?"

As if to prove how fit she is, Maeva bent a little at the side, stretching the skin underneath. She gave him a smile and put her armor back in its place. "The skin is a little tight from the healing scar, but given a few more days to heal and some healing potions, I should be back to perfect condition soon."

"Your first scar dealing in the Thieves Guild, though not your last. This would have been time to celebrate with a drink back when we were prosperous."

Maeva snorted and placed one of her hands on her slender hip. Brynjolf had to force himself to look at her face rather than the curve. "It seems like anything would cause for a drink around here."

Brynjolf's lips upturned at that, knowing she was correct. "You've found our secret lass, be sure not to tell anyone."

Maeva's gentle smile lit up her face in a very flattering way, and even though the ragged scar deformed it slightly, Bryn thought it fit her face better. It gave her uniqueness; it gave her character. As well, it gave him that blasted nosy feeling to ask where it came from.

"Your stares have not gone unnoticed Brynjolf. You may be a good thief, but you're not as sneaky as you look." Maeva's voice held the same amusement the Nord's had when he had heard her squeak. Brynjolf actually had the nerve to look embarrassed.

However, the Breton's scarred smile didn't leave her face. Instead, she placed her bow and quiver down on the ground and sat next to the red head on a hay stack, leaning against it and putting her arms behind her head like a pillow. Brynjolf looked over at her, but she just stared off at the ceiling. He had a feeling her eyes weren't seeing anything in this room.

"Bandits."

"Huh?"

Maeva turned her head so she was looking directly into Brynjolf's emerald green eyes. "Bandits gave me these scars. A vicious Orc and a fellow Breton. For some reason, there was only the two, which explains why I got away with my life."

"What did they do to give you the scars?" Damn him and his incessant need to pry. It wasn't his place to bring up painful memories. He blamed it on his thief side, always wanting to dig deeper into things so maybe he could find something of value.

Maeva didn't seem bothered by the question though. Her eyes were just distant and squinted, as if she was trying to focus on the memory.

"I left my home of Solitude at the age of ten to fend for myself around the other towns and forests there, which is when I started to become a master in archery. Because I was only a child, I couldn't acquire a job and had no want of one, so I became a thief. I did this kind of thing alone until I was fourteen. I had gotten a little cocky in my abilities as a sneak thief and tried for the bandits. They had talked earlier about all the things that they stole, and I wanted to take them while they slept."

"I'm guessing things didn't go as planned."

Maeva shook her head, mixing some of the loose hay into her hair, but again, she didn't seem to mind. She just continued on with her story as if Brynjolf hadn't interrupted.

"The Orc, as ironic as it seemed to be, was a very light sleeper and woke up to find me pocketing some of their things. He bound me and talked to his now awake buddy on what they should do to me. They thought it best if they had their way with me for a little while. The Orc, who seemed to be the leader, started off first and kissed me," Maeva made a disgusted sound, as if she could still feel the man's lips on her.

"I fought back against it and he bit through my lip as punishment. It hurt like a bitch, but I knew that if they ever got done with me, I was done for. So I kept struggling and made it impossible for them to get what they wanted. The Breton got frustrated and said I wasn't worth it. With my blood still on his lips, the Orc agreed and moved so the Breton could slit my throat."

Ah, so that's where it had come from. If the blade had made a mound of scar tissue that thick, then it must have been a very deep wound. How had she survived that?

"While I was drowning in my own blood, arrows in the night shot into their camp and struck the men in the head, killing them instantly. The only thing I remembered after that was waking up in the morning with a Dunmer woman by my side and bandages on my neck. I had somehow survived."

"That was very lucky lass. I've known many a man to go into bandit camps and never come out."

Maeva smiled again, and it wasn't one of bitterness like he expected. The smile was something that seemed loving.

"I am lucky; lucky that I stumbled upon Satha, the Dunmer, and lucky that she kept me around like her own child. She taught me to be a master at archery. As well, she was a thief and taught me everything I know now. We didn't have a permanent home because of our thief life, but as long as I had her, I didn't mind."

"Whatever happened to Satha?"

"When I turned twenty two, she told me it was time to part ways so I could make a name for myself. It was hard, but I knew she was right. She told me she would always be watching me to make sure I was safe, and I know she is. Six years later, here I am in the Thieves Guild."

Brynjolf turned and caught Maeva's attention, making them lock eyes, and his look was so intense that she couldn't look away, but it confused her. He gave her a very disarming smile that made her want to look away, but his gaze kept her like a witch's curse.

"I hope that we can become as much of a family for you as Satha was."

Maeva guffawed out loud and sat up, shaking the hay out of her hair. She continued laughing as she walked away and Brynjolf watched her, confused. Before she left the door with her things, she turned back around and gave the Nord a seductive look.

"A brother of crime doesn't watch his sister's ass as she walks away. I'm sure it's not family you want."

Again she laughed loud enough for it to ring through the halls as she left, though this time she didn't turn back around. Until her form was gone, Brynjolf was watching her with that infamous smirk on his face. She was right; he enjoyed staring at her too much to call her family.

Brynjolf, the lazy man that he was sometimes, continued to sit in the training room for a little while longer. Thrynn came in not too long after Maeva left, and Brynjolf had always seen him as a great archer, but after the Breton's show not even an hour before, there was no way the man could compete. Not that he would ever tell the Nord that, but it was true.

Thrynn ignored Bryn's presence and just practiced, getting some powerful shots out in his time there. Brynjolf was about to get up and try the master lock for fun, but was cut off by Rune before he even got the chance to get up.

"What is it lad?"

"Mercer said he wanted to see you at his desk. Maeva's been called out too."

"Oh, what in Mara's name have we done now?" the red head whined, though he got up.

Rune, the good hearted man he was, gave his superior a small smile and left the room to head to the Cistern. Thrynn gave the Nord a farewell that Brynjolf returned before setting off for the short travel to Mercer.

And there the old man was, behind his desk where he usually was, though he was in a deep conversation with the masked Maeva. He looked a little red with anger, but it wasn't anything new to the Nord's eyes, though Maeva wasn't taking it well. Brynjolf narrowed his green eyes and walked over to them faster.

Ever since the Breton had finished the Goldenglow job, Mercer had been the opposite of grateful. At first he was happy to have it done, but even after Maven's praise to the woman, he had grown annoyed with her. As some kind of punishment, he had sent Maeva out on more than her fair share of jobs all across Skyrim. She did each of them without a complaint and without flaw, but that seemed to only anger Mercer more.

However, the male Breton shut his mouth when Brynjolf came into his line of sight. The red head came to stand next to Maeva and she turned her head to give him a thankful glance. He seemed to be the only one who Mercer didn't give murderous glances to.

"You called Mercer?"

"Maven has a job for our new blood over here, because she is so pleased with her work, but I'm not so easily wooed by the little gold she's brought in."

Brynjolf could almost feel the anger like fire from Maeva, and it was the first time he had ever seen her so angry in her stay here. Even Vex's rude comments had done nothing to ruffle her like Mercer had. What the old man had said, he didn't know, but it must have been bad if normally docile Maeva was reacting to it.

"Mercer, the Goldenglow job wasn't enough to give you confidence in Maeva? She did what someone else could not. I would take her as back up any day."

"That's what you're doing Brynjolf."

The Nord blinked at this. "I'm what?"

"The job Maven sent to me was supposed to be for me only," Maeva finally spoke, though it seemed forced, "but Mercer doesn't think I can handle the job in Whiterun by myself, so you're coming to be my babysitter."

"Mercer, that is bold even for you!" he exclaimed, glaring at the Guild Master, "Maeva has gone to Markarth and back; you can't trust her to go to Whiterun?"

"My orders are commands Brynjolf, and I'm tired of everyone going against them. Maven is an important asset to us and I will not have this girl mucking up our biggest chance to bring our name back to all of Skyrim. I will have no more arguing words out of either of you. Now go and speak to Maven."

With that, Mercer turned his attention back to his job book and started to pen something down, acting as if neither of the thieves were there. Knowing they were dismissed, Maeva turned away with a huff and made for the secret entrance. Brynjolf moved to catch up and stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Hold on a second, lass, I still need to get my things together."

"You know I don't need you for this, right?" Maeva bit out, sounding a lot like Vex. However, her anger was well placed. Bryn gave her an apologetic look.

"I know that lass, but Mercer is in charge here and we can't go against him."

"I didn't come here to be questioned at every turn Brynjolf. I came here for the gold."

"And the gold is coming to you. Just keep yourself level headed around Mercer. He's under some pressure with Aringoth having sold his Estate to some mystery person."

Maeva sighed and nodded her head. Her shoulders relaxed and her dark blue eyes looked friendlier. "I understand. You go get your things ready and I'll meet you outside of the Bee and Barb."

* * *

**A/N: Because I didn't update yesterday (Well, not until 1 in the morning anyway) I decided I would update twice :] Hope you enjoy**


	5. Whiterun

"Those carriages need to invest in some more comfortable rides," Maeva complained, stretching out fully as said carriage started to pull away from them. Brynjolf's eyes had to force themselves away from Maeva's body to focus on her face.

"At least we're here. Maybe after our job we can get a good price on some horses from here."

"You mean steal them?"

Brynjolf smiled. "That's exactly what I mean lass."

The ride had been long, he had to admit. And it hadn't been the fastest way to travel either. The man driving the carriage had been as slow as a slug, trying to avoid all the bumps in the road, and it had taken them double the time to get to Whiterun. However, it was less expensive to get a ride there than buy horses from the Riften stables. And you couldn't steal them because the finger would always be pointed at the Thieves Guild.

The guards of Whiterun welcomed them with somewhat opened arms and the two thieves made haste for the Bannered Mare, where Maven had told them to meet with Mallus Maccius, the man who had the plan to put Maven's competition out of business.

Unlike Riften, Whiterun was a town that was that was full of life and traders. It was the living version of what Riften had been before everything started to go down-hill. Where Whiterun was sunny and full of life, Riften was dark and barren. It almost hurt Brynjolf physically to think about how low the guild had fallen.

When they entered the tavern at about midday, they were directed into the kitchen of the place, where Mallus was sitting alone, waiting for them. Both thieves stood while he sat and gave them curious looks.

"Maven only told me there was one coming, and said it was a Breton woman. Why are you here?"

"That's none of your concern. Just tell us what to do so we don't waste time," Maeva barked.

"Fine, fine, I don't cross orders. Honningbrew's owner, Sabjorn, is about to hold a tasting for Whiterun's Captain of the Guard and we're going to poison the mead. Is that blunt enough for you?"

"You have the poison?" Brynjolf asked, not liking the way he was acting towards Maeva.

"No, no. That's the beauty of the whole plan. We're going to get Sabjorn to give it to us. The meadery has quite a pest problem and the whole city knows about it. Pest poison and mead don't mix well, you know what I mean?"

"And we fit in this how?"

"The two of you are going to happen by and lend poor old Sabjorn a helping hand. He's going to give you the poison to use on the pests, but you're also going to dump it into the brewing vat."

"That's clever. Mix it into the brewing vat and it will only be toxic enough to taste bitter and not hinder anyone," Brynjolf mused.

Mallus nodded with a proud smile on his face. "Maven and I spent weeks planning this. All we need is someone like you to get in there and get it done. Now the both of you, get going before Sabjorn grows a brain and hires someone else to do the dirty work."

With that, they left to head to the meadery. Sabjorn was more desperate than either of them had expected, so desperate that he didn't even question the fact that two people had to go down under the building to simply plant some poison. It may have caused some suspicion when the captain tasted the mead, but it wasn't like the barman was going to be around long enough to oust them.

"Skeevers are absolutely vile creatures," Maeva muttered, pulling an arrow out of the side of one of the vermin she had just killed. The daggers that Brynjolf was carrying were covered in their blood.

"You don't have to tell me twice. I wish I would have brought some heavy armor, that way I had a fair chance of not catching their diseases if they bite me."

"I brought some cure disease potions if worse comes to worse," Maeva said, notching an arrow before moving further into the cave.

"I wasn't expecting those spiders either," the Nord said, feeling the need for conversation.

"Why Bryn, do you have a fear of these vermin?" the Breton teased, giving him a smirk over her shoulder. The man glared at her back.

"I certainly do not. Shows me not to talk to you out of sheer boredom."

Maeva laughed softly and quickly turned the corner, looking out for the never ending amount of skeevers. "What do you fear then?"

"Like I would tell you! Knowing you, you'd run off to tell Delvin, or worse Vex, and I'd never hear the end of it from any of you."

"I bet it's something extremely preposterous, like butterflies or little foxes," Maeva continued to muse, mostly to annoy the man behind her.

"You say another word and I might just give you something to fear."

They both came into a clearing, where already dead skeevers were lying, and Maeva was about to continue her jesting when Brynjolf noticed something up ahead. Though it was dark down here, what with little light and frost spider webs all over the damned place, there was what looked like another person up ahead. Maeva couldn't see them because her back was turned to look at him. The figure noticed their presence and sent a fire ball their way.

"Watch out Maeva!"

The Breton went to turn around, like all people did when hearing those kinds of words, but Brynjolf knew it would hit her by the time she fully turned around. Instead of waiting for her possible death, the Nord threw himself at her and sent them both tumbling to the ground, missing the flame by inches.

Maeva made a pained sound from under him, having been the one to get all the weight, and her hood fell down to spill out her glowing silver hair. Brynjolf would have run a hand through it seductively—given their compromising position—if the mystery man wasn't still in the room with them.

"By the Nine, who is that lunatic?" Maeva groaned once Brynjolf rolled off her. They both stood up carefully and hid behind the wall as the man continued to throw magic at them.

"I haven't a clue, but it would have been nice to have been told of him," Brynjolf growled, swearing that he might just punch Mallus in the face for withholding information.

"I know no magic skill other than a simple flame to use against him. What about you?"

"I know nothing of destruction," Bryn said, "but I know one trick that might distract him. If you're as good with that bow as I think you are, you can use that one second of distraction to get him."

"Then it's a plan," Maeva announced, narrowly dodging sparks that the madman was sending out, "try not to get fried."

Brynjolf gave her a flash of a smile and conjured up a ball of light, a spell he had learned to use as decoration to wow the gullible in Riften. Quickly ducking out from behind the wall, he sent the ball of light flying above the man's head, where it stuck.

The man did just what they wanted him to do. Having seen the light, he looked up and stopped his onslaught of attack to ponder at the ball. It gave Maeva the exact opportunity that she needed. When he had his head turned up to look at the light, Maeva quickly notched an arrow and let it go, barely giving herself time to aim when she came out from behind the wall. Not that she needed the time, because it hit the mark exactly where she wanted it.

Whether or not it was a painful death, they didn't know. All that Brynjolf could say that it had been an instant kill. He hadn't expected it to be, because it had been through the throat, but when they carefully walked up to him, his body was still.

"He's got some gold," Brynjolf uttered, fishing it out and dumping it into his pocket, "some potions and a journal. Well, that's all we want anyway."

"Hand me the journal," Maeva said. With a curious glance, Bryn handed it to her. She quickly skimmed the pages the lunatic had while the male pocketed the useful potions. Maeva caught his attention with a snort.

"What?"

"The man was raising a skeever army down here, that's why we came across so many. He planned on building a vermin army that would attack Whiterun and kill all the citizens. He was absolutely mental."

"He's been down here for a while, yet Mallus didn't tell us about him. Maven's going to hear about this."

"That is one Black-Brier you don't want to cross."

After looting the body and the chest next to the nest, which only had a small amount of gold, Bryn put poison in the nest, which would stop more skeevers from creating an army down here, and they were off. The path to the brewery was a short one, and with no one there to monitor the mead, it was easily poisoned as well. The two thieves walked back to the meadery, though Brynjolf went to stand by Mallus, who had showed up to watch the fun, while Maeva dealt with Sabjorn.

"Job's done," she said, leaning against the bar.

"Well it's about time!" the old man snapped, causing Maeva's eyebrow to cock, "I had to stall the captain until you were finished."

"Terribly sorry," the woman said almost sarcastically, "Now what about our pay?"

"You'll just have to wait until after the captain's finished. I suppose you can wait around if you must."

"That's fine with me, as long as I get paid." The second part was aimed secretly at Mallus, who she knew was listening. Maeva left the bar and stood with the two men to watch the show unfold.

The captain was with three other guards, so it wasn't so strange for them to just be sitting and watching, but they all had to stifle themselves whenever the captain spit the vile drink out and had Sabjorn arrested. The snooty man was almost in tears when they dragged him out of his meadery to be sent to the cells.

"I don't think that could have gone any better," Mallus replied with a smirk. Brynjolf and Maeva, however, were not amused.

"I need to get a look at Sabjorn's book," Maeva voiced, keeping to the business part of the deal. She would let Brynjolf handle the lunatic issue.

"Maven wants to hunt down Sabjorn's private partner, huh? You're welcome to take a look around his office. He keeps most of his papers stashed in his desk."

Taking the offered key to the previous owner's desk, the Breton went off to go find the papers she had been asked to receive. Brynjolf, however, took a closer step to Mallus and was looking very intimidating.

"You never mentioned the lunatic living in the tunnels."

"I thought it would be better to leave some of the details out of our previous discussion. Didn't want to risk you walking away from the job," he whispered.

"Like Maven would have allowed me to. You're lucky neither of us got hurt from that fool, or damn Maven, I might have locked you down there with worse things."

Brynjolf was pleased to see that the man paled at his threat and left that as his last words to him before he went into the other room to find Maeva. It didn't take him long, and he found her with her back turned, though it looked like she was fully concentrated on what she was looking at.

"What did you find?"

"It's another letter from the stranger that bought out Goldenglow. Seems they bought Honningbrew too."

"Shit. Maven is not going to like this."

"Like Mercer is going to be any happier," Maeva growled, putting the letter in her bag for safe keeping.

"Come on lass, let's get ourselves a room at the Inn and some mead in our bellies. We can travel back home in the morning."

The Breton nodded and followed him out of the meadery, glad that Mallus seemed to be hiding in the back of the building.

"Who do you know who would have the brains to do this to the Guild?"

Brynjolf glanced over at his partner and let out a noise of thought. "I'm not sure. I mean, there's plenty of men and women that want us gone for good because of the bad we do, but I don't know anyone that would go through this length to smother us. Most would just perform the Black Sacrament and send the Dark Brotherhood after us."

"That's what we need, assassins on our ass."

* * *

**A/N: I just wanted to thank DeLyse for being a sweetheart and reviewing constantly! **


	6. Dragon

"In all my years, I've never seen Mercer this angry."

"Neither have I, though you can't blame him. Some unknown force is trying to ruin everything we've done to get the guild back to its former glory," Delvin sighed, "Though I wish he wouldn't always take it out on us."

"I'm starting to feel sorry for Vex and Maeva," Rune, an oddity at their table, claimed, "He's hard on Vex because of her failure to do the Goldenglow job. As for Maeva, I have no idea what she did to him. She's done everything he's wanted and more, yet he continues to belittle her."

"I'm not sure what is wrong with him anymore, but I have a feeling that maybe Maven has something to do with it. Everyone knows how she can be," Brynjolf stated, leaning back in his wooden chair.

"I hear she's been demanding a lot from Mercer lately, giving him a million jobs that need to be done."

"Yet here we are, talking and not doing anything," Delvin mused.

"Wanna know who's doing them?" Brynjolf growled, "Maeva. I haven't seen her since we came back from our job in Whiterun, and that was a week and a half ago! All I see of her is her back as she leaves for job after job. Mercer is punishing us all, but not as harsh as Maeva."

"I wish we could get the gold flowing more steadily. Yes, we have placed ourselves back in Solitude after that special job Vex had to complete, but it's not enough. The gold is sporadic. One day it could be piles we're receiving, but the next we have none."

"Hopefully the jobs Maeva has been forced to do are helping to spread the word," Rune muttered, biting at his lip, "her hard work should be for something."

Brynjolf shook his head to try and get rid of the scowl he knew he was supporting, but it didn't help. Mercer's attitude had been slowly driving him to madness. If it had just been to his second, he wouldn't have minded as much, but he was pressuring everyone under him. Delvin had been snapped at many a time, Vex had been close to hitting him for the things he had said to her, and even Vekel had been under his wrath. These were Brynjolf's brothers and sisters, and he wasn't going to stand around forever while they got abused.

"I'm going to go see if I can get some money from my potions," Brynjolf grunted as an excuse. Seeing his mood, Delvin didn't comment on the fakeness of them and just let him go.

The second made his way out of the Cistern without catching Mercer's attention, who was deep in a conversation with a random courier, and snuck through the hidden entrance in the cemetery. It was bleak outside today, though when wasn't it in Riften? A mist was covering the city, which the Nord had learned was a prequel for rain, and it left the city sad enough to host a funeral.

Brynjolf ended up walking all around the hold, going no where in particular, but just looked around. He would pass by shops and memories would cover his vision of those same shops, but years earlier. He was looking through the eyes of his younger self, when Lady Luck had shone upon them and made the city prosper.

People of Riften always talked about how they were glad to be mostly rid of the Thieves Guild, but when they had been at their strongest, the hold had flowed with gold. They were the ones to bring the wealth to Riften.

However, that had been when Gallus was the Guild Master. That was when they were a happy family of thieves, as contradictory as that sounded. That was before Karliah destroyed everything.

She was the vile poison she used. That had been the first thing he thought of when a younger Mercer Frey had walked through the Cistern close to death. She had a special poison that she always used with her arrows and it was at that time he thought it to be her blood. It was the only way that she could kill someone like Gallus; she had to have poison in her veins.

Brynjolf had tried to track her down in the beginning, Talos, everyone had. But Bryn had taken it harder than anyone else. Gallus had been more than a father to the Nord. He had taken him in at such a young age after catching him behind a stand. He hadn't called the guards; all he did was give him gold and told him to follow him if he wanted more. After that, the man had been a role model to the Nord, and it had ripped his heart to pieces to hear that he had been murdered. And by Karliah none the less.

Unknowingly, Brynjolf had made his way to the gates of Riften, where two guards stood. They both gave him discreet nods, being loyal to the guild, and he did the same out of habit. He made to turn around and go Mara knows where when the gate they were guarding opened up.

"Lass?" the red haired man inquired. Hearing his voice, Maeva looked up to see her fellow thief standing there with a curious but slightly happy face. She gave him a small smile and slowly walked over.

"Hello Brynjolf. It's been a while since I got the chance to talk to you."

Brynjolf heard the exhaustion in her voice and looked harder into her hood so he could better see her eyes. He noticed for the first time it was hard to see those exuberant eyes because they didn't hold that sparkle they usually did and under them she had dark circles like she hadn't slept in a while. With the way she was hunched over, he wouldn't have been surprised if she hadn't in a very long time.

"Lass, you're a complete wreck."

Maeva gave a sheepish smile under her mask, though she wasn't sure if he saw or not. "Do I look that bad?"

"I'll be a true friend and tell you the truth, and that is yes."

Maeva nodded and rubbed her eyes with her gloved hands, trying to get that aching feeling out of her eyes. "Then I'm as bad as I feel. Mercer's been on my ass for the week and all I'm trying to do is make him more civil. Every time I come back he just gets angrier. Damn it Bryn, I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"Lass…"

The Nord could tell she was extremely upset over the whole ordeal, whether it was just because of the lack of sleep or Mercer, he didn't know, but he could feel how distraught she was. He came up to her and pulled her in a tight hug, which she wasn't really expecting. Not that Brynjolf had expected himself to do it anyway, but he didn't back away from it once it happened. Maeva finally relaxed into it and hugged him back, closing her eyes and wishing she could just sleep in his arms.

"I want this to be my family, but with Mercer breathing down my neck, I feel like the stranger I am. Life was so much easier with Satha."

"He'll come around once he figures out who this mystery person is who's ruining our business. Now let's bring you back home where you can get back a week's worth of sleep."

Brynjolf pulled away from the hug but kept his arm around Maeva's shoulder so they were close as they walked. She was short enough that it was perfectly comfortable for him and she fit against his side like she had been molded to fit here. They were silent on their way to the Cistern, but it was a content silence.

Brynjolf led her to an empty bed near the statue they had of Nocturnal, which was one of the ones that was more comfortable and blocked off most of the noise that some of his brothers could make. While he was assuring her it was fine for her to sleep here, Brynjolf caught Mercer's gaze. It looked like he wanted to see Maeva, probably to send her out again, but he wasn't going to allow it.

"Sleep and I'll take care of Mercer."

Maeva, who had taken her hood and mask off, smiled at him and nodded. Before he could leave, though, she planted a small kiss on his lips that lasted a second and pulled away. Even though she was tired, she still held a playful look in her eye.

"Thank you Bryn."

Giving her the wicked grin he always did, Brynjolf gave her a wink as he walked away. He was happy to hear her laugh softly at that as she lay down. The happiness fled from him when he walked over to Mercer's station and saw his stony expression.

"What is going on? I need to talk to Maeva about a job and she's sleeping?"

"Mercer, you've been going too hard on her."

"Have I?" the gray haired man said, amused, though it wasn't the good kind, "I didn't realize she deserved special treatment because you had some feelings for her."

So he had seen the little kiss. Not that it mattered, because it wasn't what he was thinking. And he wouldn't let the Guild Master deter him from his point of putting the man back in his place.

"It's not because of that Mercer. You have been acting so insufferable lately and we're all tiring of it. When it was the Goldenglow job, I understood some of your anger and frustration. I understood it a little less after we came back from Whiterun. Now you've gone too far. Not only has Maeva suffered from your abuse, but the rest of us as well. You're over working us and you're pushing everyone else to the edge. You can't expect us to be happily loyal to you with that kind of attitude."

"And what are you trying to say Brynjolf?"

"I'm saying," the second ground out, "to lay off my people."

"Your people?" Mercer laughed at that, something Bryn hadn't seen him do in a long time. "I am the Guild Master here Brynjolf, you are all my people."

"You may lead us, but right now, they are all running to me because you are forcing them away, so they are mine. Lay off of them and maybe they will respect you again. Right now, you're just some bully."

Mercer got red faced at that and Brynjolf was scared that he might actually explode because of it, but it was as if someone had pulled a lever. He let out a slow breath and his face gained its original color. He nodded his head and looked at Brynjolf with a calmer demeanor.

"You're right Brynjolf. I've been so harsh lately I've been pushing everyone away. With Maven breathing down my neck, it's been hard. Thank you for this lad; there's a reason you're my second."

Brynjolf gave him a bright smile and smacked his shoulder. "There's the Mercer I know. Still not happy, but that's typical."

Mercer rolled his eyes but gave the Nord a smile. "Yeah, yeah. Why don't you go tell your people that I'm not a fire breathing dragon anymore? I have to prepare for a job."

"A job? The one you were going to give Maeva? Mercer, you don't have to do it. I would happily—"

"Don't worry about it Bryn. It concerns the buyer of the Goldenglow Estate and Honningbrew and now that I think about it, it's best that I go. I am Guild Master here and I should be getting the information. You're in charge while I'm gone, got it? I believe I'll be back in a week's time."

Brynjolf gave the man a nod in understanding and watched him for a bit while he started to gather supplies for himself. It had been a long time since he himself had taken on a job, and it was usually something of extreme importance. Maybe after this, they would finally know the identity of the person behind their troubles.

Was it bad that they were celebrating Mercer's leave of absence? Brynjolf started to think so when Sapphire brought it up, but once he got down to the Flagon and saw how happy everyone was just sitting around and drinking, he decided that it couldn't be that bad.

They truthfully hadn't been together like this in a very long time, not for ten years at least. All the guild members were usually scattered through their underground keep or up above in Riften. For the first time in years, every member was sitting in the Ragged Flagon, drinking and talking.

Well, everyone except for Maeva.

No one had seen her at all today, not in the city or underground, but her whereabouts weren't their main priority at the moment. Getting ready for their party seemed to be. Delvin had invited some feminine guests from Ivarstead, which he was impatiently waiting for; Vex was uncharacteristically flirting with Dirge, and Tonilia was giving Vekel the time of day. The family was having a great time, even though they were missing their newest member.

Brynjolf was looking around for her, however, which was catching the attention of Delvin. He grabbed the Nord's arm as he was walking by and gave him a mischievous look.

"Last I saw her, she said she was making her way out to the gates of Riften."

How in the name of the Divines did he know he was looking for Maeva? He didn't have time to question it because the bald man was walking away, so he pushed it from his mind and headed out to Riften. And when he stepped out of the hidden entrance, it was oddly sunny out. Not that they didn't get their fair share of bright days, but it just seemed a little odd.

Even odder was the fact that the whole town seemed to be milling about the market place. By the Nine, there were even unknown people here looking for good deals and being wooed by Madesi and his trinkets. Had Brynjolf been at his stand, he would have made a good amount of gold.

However, his mind was preoccupied on finding Maeva. Plus, he didn't have any bogus potions to sell at the moment. Or, that was the excuse he forced himself to believe. With a happy smile on his face, he walked through the Riften gates to see the stables and a few other people milling about. It was a strangely nice day. Now, if only he could find his silver haired Breton.

His silver haired Breton? Well, why not.

He walked down a good portion of the road with still no sign of the woman. He didn't want to get too far away from the hold, knowing the trouble that his fellow thieves could create, but it was bothering him how Maeva had disappeared. She hadn't had any jobs to do today.

Thankfully, just a few more paces around the bend he found her walking his way, her bow strapped to her back and a couple dead hares placed in her grasp. She had just gone hunting; everyone was entitled to do that.

Looking up from the trail she had been following, Maeva noticed Brynjolf standing there, someone she had been running into a lot lately. She smiled despite herself and picked up the pace, making it to the Nord a little faster.

"What are you doing out here Bryn?" she asked.

"Taking a little stroll for fresh air. We're having a party down in the Flagon, and there won't be any leaving once it begins."

"What did I tell you about Nords? Give them any excuse and they'll use it to get drunk."

Brynjolf gave her a huge grin and shrugged as if he had been found out. "We're in a need for good spirits, why waste the fleeting days of Mercer's absence to do something he'd never want us to do?"

Maeva just laughed and started walking, prompting her friend to do the same. They chatted on their way back to Riften, though mostly it was just them teasing one another. They were only a couple yards away from the guarded gates when Maeva abruptly stopped, almost making Brynjolf bump into her.

"Lass, what's wrong?"

"Do you hear that?" she whispered, her ears looking perked while her eyes were turned towards the sky.

Following her example, he turned all his attention to listening to what she was hearing and could actually hear it. It sounded like a bird flapping its wings, but that was only a rough example. It was too big to be a bird, and was making too much noise. What in the name of Talos could it be?

That's when they both heard the roar and knew exactly what it was. A dragon.

Maeva dropped the hares to the ground and went for her bow, though by the time she had it half way drawn, the scaled beast had already landed right in front of them. Her blue eyes were wide and Brynjolf's mouth was wide open.

He had never seen anything so big in his entire life. And its serpent gaze was directed at them. And boy, did it look pissed.

"Holy shit," Brynjolf was able to swear before it started to spew fire from its mouth. The two thieves were able to dodge the blaze slightly, with the only damage being their singed clothes.

Without a second thought, Maeva started to shoot her arrows into the beast, barely giving the missiles time to be notched before they went straight at the creature. However, the iron arrows she had been carrying for her simple hunt weren't doing much to hinder it.

Brynjolf went into action and started to hack at the beast with his sword. It was a very daunting thing, looking the beast in the eye as he tried to kill it. Hell, if he would have been by himself, the thief wouldn't have thought twice about running away; he would have just done it.

However, there were guards running their way, and he had Maeva, who was making as little progress with the dragon as he was. If they all worked together, he was sure they could defeat it. Hopefully no one but the monster would die in the process.

"Damn it!" Maeva swore, watching as another one of her iron arrows bounced off the thing's scales. The Breton had only brought these and a few glass arrows with her, the stronger ones for any bears she might run into on her hunt. But this so wasn't a bear. Why bother wasting her arrows, even the glass ones, when it would do little to no damage?

As the guards came down on the dragon like pests, Maeva cursed herself for not carrying anything but a bow and dagger with her. She hadn't been prepared for this fight, but it's not like she could run away. She wasn't a coward, but she wasn't an idiot either.

That's when a brilliant thought came to her mind. Poison, her poison. She could lather it onto the glass arrowheads that were sure to penetrate and it would slow the beast down. As long as she got the dragon in the most vital of places, the poison would work its magic in no time.

Brynjolf watched in horror as the dragon took the closest guard and tore him to pieces with his razor sharp teeth. The man hadn't even had time to scream in terror before he was killed. It had taken no effort on the dragon's part while the mere mortals were giving this fight everything they had. How in Oblivion did they think they could win?

"Brynjolf, move! You're in my shot!"

Brynjolf didn't waste time arguing of what was going on, only threw himself to the side and into the way of safety. It wasn't until the monster roared with pain that his brain recognized that Maeva had warned him. He looked over at her and saw her kneeling down, her aim true as she notched a glass bow. There was something very green dripping from it, and when he looked over at the dragon, he saw it had an identical arrow sticking out of its throat. The beast seemed to be off balance and wasn't even fighting the guards that were attacking it.

_Poison, she's using poison._

Brynjolf's world swam with that realization. Ever since Gallus' death, he had hated dealing with poison and venom of the like. Seeing it most of the time could make him sick, but seeing her using it just brought up painful memories of a woman who had done the same.

Maeva was concentrating her aim and was filled with pride that it was working. The dragon had slowed down and was wobbly now, feeling the slight effect the poison was having. It alone might not have killed it, because this poison wasn't made for anything so large, but with the help of the guards, they were bringing it down.

"This is the last one," she muttered to herself, aiming where she could only guess the heart to be. She hoped the glass arrow would be strong enough as she sent it away. Relief flooded her when it sunk deep into its mark, making it roar one last time before a guard made the finishing blow.

Triumph ran through the blood of every fighter as they watched the beast die, its skin turning to ash and flame as it burned, leaving only bones and discarded arrows in its wake. No one could believe something so monstrous could actually be killed.

With a smile large enough to take over her face, Maeva trotted up to Brynjolf, offering him her hand. He oddly hadn't moved since he fell out of her way. "We did it Bryn!"

The Nord cursed at himself for feeling so weak, but he couldn't take her hand, not when the green poison still lingered against the leather of her gloves. He understood that she wasn't Karliah, but the thought of it still haunted him. That was his darkest fear, something he never wanted to admit. Trying to pass it off, he stood up by himself and gave the woman a forced smile.

"You've got a bit of something on your hand lass."

Looking down, Maeva noticed that the green poison still lingered and had to stop herself from swearing. If he would have had a cut on his hand, it could have killed him!

"I'm sorry Bryn!" she apologized, digging around in her pocket with her clean hand to find a jar of red ointment. Sticking her fingers in it, she spread it across her hands and made the motions like she was cleaning them, which she was essentially doing.

"I'm not used to having to resort to using poisons all that often, and I forget that I usually still have some on my hands. I should probably go clean off my arrows before anyone happens upon them and gets themselves killed."

Brynjolf tried to calm himself down as he watched Maeva walk away and apply the red antidote on the arrowheads, rendering them nothing but a normal weapon. She would never kill a friend with that poison; it was only her last resort. Those thoughts helped him slow his heartbeat.

Maeva had collected all of her arrows and gotten rid of the poison when she found something strange. There was a lone ebony arrow by her pile of glass arrows that was dipped in the same poison she had used. Her eyebrows came together in confusion as she picked it up, rubbing the ointment on it to get rid of the poison. It worked, leaving just the sharp tip, but Maeva was still confused.

She didn't own any ebony arrows.

* * *

**A/N: I just wanted to let you know that instead of daily, I'm going to be updating this everyday, that way I can spread it out longer. This story is pretty much done, but I don't want to rush putting it up.**


	7. Past

Talk of the dragon slaying just outside the gates of Riften had spread like a wildfire in the hottest summers. Not many of the town's people had seen such a sight, not even when they were flying miles high in the sky somewhere else. To have the bones sitting not even a mile away from the gates was something to gossip about. The guards even had to force some of the people back inside when night was approaching. Something like this didn't just happen every day.

Down in the Ragged Flagon, the talk was even worse because two of their members had been in the fight. After millions of questions sent their way, Maeva had decided to gather everyone's attention on the dock to tell of her story, though it was a bit exaggerated.

She was so enthusiastic in her tale, having to stop herself from pulling out her bow and demonstrating what she did. She put fear in everyone about the size of the dragon, but gave them hope when the climax came and she told of the guard who delivered the killing bow.

Though Brynjolf had been there and had fought, he had refused to answer questions in the kindest way he knew. At first his inferiors had thought him still scared of the experience, but he had weaved his words so that Maeva could get to tell the story. Everyone forgot he was there, and that was the way he liked it. He drank from his tankard and just watched as Maeva's beautiful face lit up through her story.

The only one who didn't leave him alone, however, was his Breton best friend. At first he sat quietly at his darkened table, just listening, but turned back to the red head a few minutes into it.

"You are in quite a sour mood today Bryn. Feeling like taking the role of Mercer, aye?"

That got the man to lift a corner of his mouth in smile, but he soon shook it off. He couldn't get that terrified feeling out of his chest. He was just hoping to drink it all away so he could focus on having fun for their party.

"Shouldn't you be with your hired women, Delvin?"

"They are too enthralled by Maeva's story at the moment."

"Then it seems like you've lost some of your charm," Brynjolf teased, which helped the tightness in his chest.

"I most certainly have not. It's just that Maeva has more than I do at the moment."

Brynjolf looked back at the woman and had to agree with him. No matter how put off he had been by her use of poison, Maeva was quite the woman. She was gorgeous with her long, silver hair and ocean deep blue eyes. Her scars begged to be caressed and kissed, and that devilish smile made both men and women go weak at the knees. It was no surprise that she had the attention of every person in the Flagon. Especially since she was so lit with joy.

"Now, why is Maeva over there telling of your dragon conquest and you are not?"

Tearing his gaze away from the female Breton, Brynjolf turned to look at his friend. Part of the pain in his chest swelled to life again.

"I didn't do much to help against it. Plus, Maeva is quite a story teller. She could give me a run for my gold in the marketplace if she ever wanted to sell potions."

Delvin sensed that that wasn't the real reason, but as to not make the second upset, he let it go. This was supposed to be a fun get together, after all. The two men both turned to look when Maeva jumped off the table she had been using as a stage and everyone clapped for her story.

Some had a few more questions to ask her, but the silver haired beauty was waving them away, promising them another time. She was headed straight for the two men. She turned the seat around so that she was straddling it and hugging the back of the chair.

"You look gorgeous with the afterglow of a fight Maeva," Delvin complimented quickly, getting a smile and a thanks from her before he rushed off to grab his hired beauties. Maeva watched him for a moment with a laugh. That Del was a character.

Turning back to Brynjolf, Maeva was surprised to see that he wasn't as happy as he usually seemed. Sure, he still had the heart wrenching dimpled smile on his face, but it wasn't the full blown thing that Maeva always loved to see. He seemed to be putting on a show for everyone around him so they could enjoy their night. Thrynn started to sing a drunken song when the blue eyed woman caught Brynjolf's attention.

"You have a drink in your hand, yet you're not happy. I thought alcohol was the only thing a Nord needed to be set for life?"

The joke got a chuckle out of Bryn's chest, but not the smile she wanted. His green eyes seemed dimmer than they had ever been and it brought the woman her own kind of pain.

"Seriously Bryn, what is wrong? You haven't been the same since we came back home."

Brynjolf put down his tankard and put his arms behind his head, looking at her but remembering their battle. "The dragon just got to me I guess."

"That's complete shit. You're lying to me Bryn, and I don't very well appreciate it."

"What if I said I didn't want to talk about it?"

"I'd continue to pry until you told me. That, or give you enough mead to make you spill your guts."

Brynjolf laughed and finished off the last of his mead, placing the empty tankard gently on the table, keeping his eyes away from Maeva's. Maybe he'd let her drink him into Oblivion. He was known to be able to hold his alcohol; he might not spill himself.

However, that's when he looked at her and knew he couldn't. The way she was looking at him, full of friendly concern, undid him in the most humiliating of ways. It wasn't her fault that he was acting this way, but here she was, trying to fix him. She was way too good for him.

"Do you remember when we were on our mission in Whiterun together and you asked me of my fear?"

"Did a butterfly land on you during our battle?"

"Lass!"

Maeva giggled, a feminine sound that drove the man's hormones crazy, but she nodded her head. "Yes, I remember."

"I'm afraid of poisons, as silly as it sounds. It brings up bad memories."

Guilt crashed around Maeva and he could see it in her face. She was thinking upon how she had almost touched him with her poisoned hands. To get her mind off of feeling guilty, he placed his bare hand over her gloved one. She was warm under him.

"There was a woman here a very long time ago who was an archer like you, but she specialized in making poisons that she would dip her arrow head into. It made killing her victims easier. She was a thief like us, very respected around here."

"Why do I have a feeling this story doesn't end well?"

"Because it doesn't lass," Brynjolf whispered, barely heard over the shouting of his crime siblings, "Her name was Karliah and she was one of our best thieves. We had a big problem to deal with that took our former Guild Master Gallus, Karliah, and Mercer to do. We didn't see them for days after that, though it shouldn't have taken that long. Mercer came back close to dead from poison. When he was able to talk, he told us that Karliah murdered Gallus out of cold blood and almost got him in. Gallus was like a father to me, and when he died, a part of me died with him."

"Brynjolf…" Maeva whispered, her heart aching because of the raw emotion on the Nord's face. Her hand held his tighter and caught his attention.

"She's been running from us for twenty five years, and Gallus was the only one who could possibly have found her. Ever since her betrayal, poison makes me sick to my stomach."

"I'm sorry that all that happened to the Guild. And I'm sorry our kill brought up the memory. No one should have to relive such a painful event."

"It'll haunt us all until the bitch is found dead."

"Come on Brynjolf, let's get some ale in your belly to make you forget," Maeva stated, pulling at the man's hand as she stood up.

"I already told you my story, and you still want to get me drunk?"

Maeva laughed and turned to give him a seductive look. "I like the way you dance with me when you're drunk."

He had no more complaints after that.

* * *

It didn't take them much time to get into the mood of downing their drinks. At first, the two mingled with their friends, telling stories and singing along with them, and at one point, they even began to play games. Not too long after that, however, they decided to keep to themselves and sip at their wine and mead. Not like it mattered how they drank, they were already beyond drunk.

"Another round over here Vekel! No time to waste!"

Brynjolf turned around to see Maeva giggling and finishing off her wine, sensually licking the lasting beads of it off her mouth. He doubted she knew how sexy it really was; not when she was this drunk. He gave her a smirk and watched as her face became confused.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"No reason at all lass. You can handle more alcohol than I thought your small body could."

Maeva huffed at the insult and places a hand on her chest. "I'm offended Bryn. This curvy body is the reason I've had to push my tolerance up. You get a lot of drinks sent your way when you look like this."

That's when Vekel placed another two goblets in front of them, taking the others away, and they both thanked him and watched as he returned to Tonilia's side. She herself was pretty buzzed and didn't mind when the man placed his hand on her lower back. Maeva turned her blue eyes to Brynjolf's green and wiggled her eyebrows.

"When is that woman just going to say yes? Vekel has spent so much time and money on her and she refuses, yet we all know she wants him."

"Isn't it a woman's way to be fickle and complicated?"

"You really are asking for a beating, aren't you?" Maeva snorted, shaking her head and taking a small sip of her wine.

"I'm just speaking the truth lass. When it comes to relations, women can be so infuriating. I wish for once a woman would just tell me what she liked."

Swallowing her liquid courage, Maeva leaned in close and said in almost a whisper, "I love it when you call me lass."

Brynjolf blinked those big green eyes at the Breton, absolutely speechless, and he could only watch as she laughed and got up from the table. Sending a wink his way, she sauntered off to Rune, who welcomed her with open arms. The whole time, Brynjolf's gaze had been no where other than her curves.

Delvin, who had caught the open mouth expression his superior was giving the woman, almost slapped himself in the face. Brynjolf, the ever handsome charmer, was standing there like a fool, letting his woman get away. He'd be an idiot to let a drunk Maeva stay with anyone else for more than a minute.

Shaking off the shock, Brynjolf stood up abruptly, almost knocking the wooden chair to the ground, and marched over to her. The two friends only had a moment or two to talk before Bryn interrupted them. Rune gave him a smile and a hello.

"Sorry my friend, but there's something I need to talk to this lass about," the red head said. Not even giving the man a chance to speak, he picked up the silver haired Breton and threw her over his shoulder, much to her displeasure. She squealed, but it was cut off by a grunt as he adjusted her on his shoulder.

The Nord left the Flagon and went to the empty Cistern. Over his shoulder, Maeva waved her friend goodbye with a smile and a drunken giggle. Rune waved back in confusion, turning to get into another conversation. Delvin gave his female friend a wink.

When the Cistern door closed behind the two, all their movements seemed louder as they echoed through the underground living quarters. Maeva was silently laughing so hard that it was getting hard to breathe. There wasn't a moment to rest until Brynjolf was walking through door to finally lead them to a bedroom, where he went to discard the Breton on the bed.

There was humor in the woman's deep blue eyes until she saw Brynjolf's face, then everything turned serious. The way he was towering above her, his huge frame filling her vision, was an intimidating sight. But she wasn't afraid of him. That smoldering look in his eyes actually excited her.

"You're going to set me on fire with that look Bryn," she breathed.

"Maybe that's what I want to do, lass," he replied, making sure he emphasized her nickname. The way she shivered against the sheets made him wish he knew this trick before. True, it wasn't just her nickname, because he called every woman lass and every man lad, but if this night ended the way he wanted it to, it might just be her name for the rest of her days.

Maeva sat up on the bed, using her arms to support her weight, which sent her chest forward just a bit more. Bryn looked down for a moment before looking back into her eyes. She smirked at him, all drunken silliness gone from her.

"What caused all this?"

"'This' meaning me on a bed?" Maeva asked, making him nod, "Well, I just got tired of waiting for you to make the move. You think I wear this tight leather all the time for the fashion? I like the way your eyes follow me when I walk."

Brynjolf let out a sound that was close to a growl and climbed on top of Maeva then, surprising her and causing her to land on her back. Bryn's red hair brushed softly against the woman's face and she reached up a hand to run her fingers through it. She smiled softly at him as he leaned down to kiss the scar on her lip.

"I'm going to show you all the things I was thinking while watching you."

"All of them?" she inquired, her voice a whisper.

The Nord's lips brushed against hers in a gentle kiss as he replied to her. "All of them."


	8. Karliah

When Brynjolf's eye opened next, he was groggy and could feel the hangover of the night before taking its toll on him. He groaned and threw and arm over his eyes, trying to block out the very small amount of light in the room. The thing that caught his attention was the feminine chuckle not even a foot away from him.

"You look horrible Bryn."

A smirk lit up his face and he didn't even have to regain his vision to know who it was. "That's a lie lass, and we both know that."

"Someone is a little full of himself."

Brynjolf rolled to his side, taking his arm away from his eyes so he could see, and fell instantly into Maeva's hypnotic gaze. She was close enough to touch so he did so, using both of his arms to bring her still naked body closer to his own. His lips brushed against her ear as he whispered.

"You know you love it lass. You said so last night."

Maeva rolled her eyes and managed to wiggle out of the Nord's arms and got out of the bed, her beautiful backside facing him. "I was also very intoxicated," she replied while slipping on her light armor.

Brynjolf supported his weight with an elbow and cocked his eyebrow at her, even if she couldn't see it. "You're going to claim the wine made you come to bed with me last night?"

"Oh no, I came very willingly. I'm just telling you that you're not as smooth as you think you are."

"Is that why you were at my mercy , because I'm not so smooth?"

The Breton turned to him once she was fully clothed, her hands on her hips, and the sight of him half hidden by the blankets didn't make her jump back into the bed with him, but up tilt her lips. "Where would we have been, Bryn, had I not made the first move? In fact love, I had you in the palm of my hand this entire time. I think I'm the one with the moves."

Brynjolf placed a hand over his heart. "I'm hurt lass. Do I mean nothing to you?"

Quick as a fox, Maeva was on top of him again, though there were more layers between them than he would have liked. However, the open gentleness on her face pushed the lustful thoughts from his mind as her eyes scanned his face. It was like she was looking deep inside him for something and gave a ghost of a smile when she found it.

"You mean a lot more than just nothing to me Brynjolf." A soft kiss was placed on his lips, one he barely got to return before she was gone, "But we have work to do. A Flagon to clean, coins to steal; you know the works. So get up and get dressed before people start to wonder where you ran off to."

With that, she was gone through the doors, her footsteps barely heard over his breathing. That lass was in a unique class all her own; the man was lucky to have gotten so close to her in such a short amount of time.

Not caring how long it took him, Brynjolf put on his clothes at a leisurely pace and walked out of the room as if nothing had happened, though the most spectacular thing had. No one seemed to question that he had been absent for more than half the party, along with Maeva, but maybe everyone else was just as hung over and tired from the mead as he was to remember much of what had happened the night before.

The only person who would never forget a juicy bit of information, however, was the bald Breton who looked as chipper as a morning bird. When the second in command sat down at his table, the grin on his face was a mile wide and brighter than the sun.

"Haven't seen you since you left the party to talk to Maeva about something. How did that conversation go, my friend?"

"You are too much of a pest for your own good Delvin. Where are your hired beauties?"

"Still too tired from the pleasure I delivered them up until this morning. And you thought I lost my charm."

"What went on during my absence?" Brynjolf asked, looking around the almost completely empty Flagon.

"Much more drinks were had, what you can call dancing went on, ear drums were burst with singing, and a lot of people went to have their own conversations, if you know what I mean."

Brynjolf cocked an eyebrow. "Such as who?"

"Our little Vexy was seen leaving with Dirge, and Vekel's persistence finally got to Tonilia."

The second chuckled and nodded his head, turning to look at the empty bar where their friend usually would have occupied. The two men had matching grins on their faces at the thought of their friend.

"You think she'll regret it this morning?"

"Maybe their drunken night of passion will bring her around to the idea of just finally marrying him. Hell, maybe she was so drunk they went to the temple of Mara and married already."

Brynjolf's bark of a laugh was cut off with the door leading to the Cistern slamming open. The Nord and Breton both looked at the doorway, waiting for the intruder when Maeva walked in. Delvin was about to make a vulgar comment on her night's events, but stopped when he saw her face.

"Lass, what's wrong?" Bryn inquired, slowly rising from his chair.

"Mercer's back," she panted, her chest rising so that it looked like she ran a mile, "He knows who's behind our misfortunes."

"Who could cause you to get into this much of a frenzy Maeva?"

The woman sent a guilty look towards her lover before hardening her face and looking back at the third. "It's Karliah."

Brynjolf's vision swam and he almost fell to the ground. Delvin was there to catch him mid fall, not even questioning his reasons for it. He knew when not to question the Nord, and now was not the time. Not when Karliah was behind it.

"Are you sure he said that name Maeva?" Delvin whispered, wanting it to be a lie. Times had come, after twenty five years, where most had learned to forget her treachery. The female Breton nodded her head, keeping it down as she spoke.

"Mercer said it loud and clear—cursed her name a few times as well—then told me to come and fetch you. He has plans to make."

"Tell him we'll be right there lass," Brynjolf got out, standing up on his own now. Maeva backed up slowly, keeping her eyes on the distraught Nord.

"I'm sorry."

With that, she was gone from the Flagon, leaving the two men there alone. Minutes ago, they had been teasing, but now the air had tensed with unwanted emotions that had a way of ripping a man apart.

"I had hoped," the second started, staring off, "that she had been caught by a wild beast or dragon and killed in the most violent of ways."

"We all did Bryn. No one wanted her to live. But we've got to face the challenge at hand. She'll die this time, I swear it."

Nodding, Brynjolf stood at his full height, and all fear and troubled expression left his face. He looked like the cocky thief he always seemed, though it was all wrong without that big smirk to finish off the look. Delvin followed silently behind the man as he led them through the Cistern. The few people who occupied the room were all gathered around Mercer, who looked more troubled than his second.

Brynjolf managed to push his way towards the front, not even excusing himself as he pushed his fellow thieves out of the way. This was serious business, and he didn't have time for manners. The red head Nord ended up right beside Maeva, but his attention was all for Mercer.

"What happened?"

"She's come back to ruin our lives for the second time Bryn," Mercer mumbled, his head down with tight fists at his side. If anyone looked close enough, they could see that he was shaking. With anger most likely, but Bryn could feel a twinge of fear radiating off of him.

"I'm not going to let it happen again," the Guild Master said, his head turning upwards with his eyes hard and cold. It matched the look all his underlings were giving him in return.

"None of us will Mercer. But how do you know it's Karliah?"

"I tracked down Gulum-Ei to Solitude after finding out that it was his little trademark sign on the notes that we found. He was surprised to see me there, seeing as I'm Guild Master, but tried to lead me off. I followed him, killed his hired mercenaries while he watched, and made some threats. The little lizard gave up all the information before I even asked for it. He told me how Karliah approached him during the night and gave him bags of coin to buy Maven's assets."

"Where is the murdering bitch now Mercer? You wouldn't have come back all this way if you hadn't of figured it out," Delvin questioned, his eyes flaming with anger but curiosity as well. The older man nodded his head and looked back down at the ground again.

"Gulum-Ei only knew it as the 'beginning of the end', but I know exactly where that is. Karliah is hiding out in the same place she killed Gallus, waiting for me to come."

"Then we will go and make sure she dies in the exact spot she killed Gallus!" Bryn almost shouted, his hands clinging to the dagger at his side, though it was still sheathed. All the thieves were surprised at what came out of Mercer's lips then.

"No Brynjolf, you're not going with me."

"Mercer, what in Oblivion is going through your mind right now?" the Nord growled, never being so angry at the man in his life, "You tell me that the murderous bitch is out there, waiting to be killed, but you won't let me take revenge for Gallus? Why Mercer?!"

"If this had been anyone else, I would let you enact your well-earned vengeance," the Breton sighed, running a hand through his hair, "but if I took you along with me, you would most definitely die at the hands of the Dunmer, and I can't let that happen to you. She's an archer, and you deal with close combat. Without my skills in fighting, your life would be forfeit before you even had a chance to see her."

"So you'll take another archer with you so they can have their revenge. Who, Thrynn? He is my brother, but we all know he is no match for Karliah."

"No, he's not," Mercer said seriously, his eyes narrowing slightly, "But Maeva is."

Maeva's blue eyes widened in shock and she took a step back, feeling all eyes turn to her at that moment. Brynjolf's stare was the most heated, with what emotion she wasn't sure, but he burned her skin the hottest.

"No Mercer," Bryn said, shaking his head, "I will not have you risking Maeva's life again. She proved herself through the Goldenglow and Honningbrew job, but this is ridiculous. This is Karliah we're talking about. I won't have you killing one of our best recruits."

"She has proven herself Bryn, and that's my reason for taking her. She flawlessly did every job I threw at her, never messing up once and delivering things in perfect condition. This all started with Goldenglow, and it's going to end here. She's been the one doing the missions leading up to the death of Karliah, and she should get the opportunity to send the bitch to her grave. I trust her bow at my back to take her, don't you?"

Brynjolf, not being able to argue with any of that, turned to look at the wide eyed Breton, his green eyes blazing with anger and concern. "Just like I told you for the Goldenglow job, I'm saying the same thing now. You don't need to do this. Karliah's reputation is not something that has been exaggerated over time; she really is as dangerous as we all say. You're seriously risking your life with this. Please, don't take it." The last part was said in a whisper only she could hear.

Maeva closed her eyes and shook her head back and forth, making her silver hair whip behind her. Just hearing about Karliah scared the living shit out of her, but she was the best here. While Bryn and Mercer were close combat fighters, she could carefully snipe the traitor before she had a chance to do the same to Maeva. Karliah's death meant everything to each of her siblings here, and she wasn't going to back down on this, no matter how much the red head begged her to.

"I'm going with Mercer, Brynjolf. When I come back with her blood on my hands, you'll thank me," the woman said softly, though it was loud enough for her boss to hear.

While Mercer welcomed her onto a mission with him and the thieves wished her luck, Brynjolf brushed passed all of them, once again not caring when he ran into someone, and headed back to the Flagon. Since no one but him was in the very empty room, he took the liberty of angrily flipping a table, scattering the metal tankards and causing a ruckus.

Figuring that destroying the Flagon wasn't going to help him feel any better, Brynjolf headed to the deck, leaning over to look down at the water that rippled beneath him. The Nord had only been this distraught when Mercer had crawled in through the secret entrance of the Cistern close to dead and delivered the news of Gallus' death. Now, Maeva was willingly putting her life on the line to catch the murderer.

He didn't know if he could handle another death to his family. Whether it was Mercer or Maeva, he wasn't sure if his heart could take it. It was hard to keep up hope for them when someone so powerful had been slain by someone they were now to hunt.

Brynjolf tensed when the door to the Cistern opened, but didn't really care if anyone saw him. He didn't have enough care to try and act like everything was okay. He expected Delvin to follow him into the Ragged Flagon, but the footsteps were too light. It was either Vex, which was almost impossible, or the same person who was causing all this grief.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to look at me," her rough voice said quietly, though with how empty the place was, it echoed.

Giving into her command, the man turned around, keeping his back against the railing of the deck with his arms folded across his chest. His body language was the opposite of inviting right now. Maeva looked almost completely neutral as she stood there, all except for her eyes. Their blue depths were carrying a sea of hurt that made the Nord guilty, but he had his rights to be angry at her.

"Do you have no faith in my skills Brynjolf? Do you not think I can manage to survive with what I know?"

"I know you're an extraordinary archer lass, but I know Karliah's skills, and I know for a fact that she's better than you. Maybe not by much, but it's enough. Add the fact that she's more than invisible mixed in with the shadows and you're just a novice. She killed Gallus, lass. I know you never knew him, but the fact that I keep repeating that should tell you how amazing he was. I don't want to lose Mercer, and I sure as hell don't want to lose you."

Maeva walked up to him then, not stopping until her entire body was pressed against his. Her gloved hand reached up to his cheek and stroked it softly, her eyes searching his face in the same manner she had this morning. She seemed so lost right then, and Bryn wanted to just wrap her up and take her back to bed, but there was no way this could be swept under the rug.

"Brynjolf, if I didn't know any better, I would think you've fallen for me." It was meant to be a joke, but with that lost and serious look on her face, it made his heart ache.

"Give me time and maybe I could lass," he whispered, placing his own hand on her smooth cheek, "but I might never get that time if you go off with Mercer."

"Your honeyed words can't stop me from going Bryn, no matter what you say."

"Promise me you'll be okay then."

"I would never offer you a promise that I couldn't keep Brynjolf," Maeva sighed, slightly frustrated.

"Fine, I bet you one hundred gold pieces you'll come back to me."

Maeva let out a chuckle and nodded her head, their noses brushing against one another because they were so close. "I'll take that bet."

"I'll be waiting for that nice jingle of coin in my pocket," Brynjolf whispered before kissing her.


	9. Lead

Mercer gave themselves two days before they were to head off to Snow Veil Sanctum and kill Karliah. The man needed time to rest after his journey and they both needed time to gather their supplies together for the trip ahead.

Maeva was packed and ready on the day he gave her the job, though it wasn't that hard. She just went into town, bought as many arrows of all different kinds as she could—though they were mostly glass—and spent the rest of that day making a large vile full of poison. She did this in secret, however, not wanting anyone to get upset at the use of it; especially Bryn.

The nights they had together before Maeva was supposed to leave, the two thieves spent together. Brynjolf said he wanted to give her a memory to survive by, like his moves in bed were the only reason she should come back, but their shared nights were for other reasons too. Mostly sharing the comfort of another person who was just as scared. They were both scared for Maeva's life, but that had never stopped the Breton before.

Mercer, late into the night before they were to depart, grabbed ahold of Maeva before she could run off with her lover to tell her to leave early the coming morning. They would bring less suspicion if they traveled separately and as long as they had the shadows on their side, they shouldn't run into any problems.

When Maeva went to sneak out of the bed she shared with the Nord, he felt it and wrapped his arms around her tighter, nuzzling his head into the back of her neck and her hair. It sent a shiver down the Breton's spine.

"Be safe," he whispered to her, kissing her neck and pulling his arms back to himself. It almost hurt feeling his warm body leave hers, but Maeva knew she had to leave. She kissed Brynjolf one more time, one she refused to call the last, and pulled on her armor.

While she dressed and readied herself, the red head turned his back to her and stared at the dark wall in front of him. It would hurt less if he didn't watch her shadowed form leave. He heard her walk away and forced himself to fall asleep when all was quiet.

Maeva, with mask and hood covering her face, left the Cistern like a whisper and snuck out into the city, blending in perfectly with the night around her. No one spotted her until she was at the front gate and the guards opened it for her. They nodded at her, being loyal to the Thieves Guild, and let her pass silently.

With no one up to stop her, Maeva easily stole one of the Stable master's horses, not caring where the blame went. She'd send the horse merrily on its way back home—seeing as Skyrim horses always knew how to get back home—and wish it the best. Snow Veil was too long of a walk to not use a horse.

With one last look back at Riften, Maeva rode off as fast as the horse could, her mind blanking of anything other than catching up with Mercer and delivering the vengeance that was needed. She was doing this for Brynjolf.

This early in the morning, it was rare that Maeva came across anything. The sun was still hours away from rising and most creatures that would cause a problem were deep asleep, which she was thankful for. Maeva didn't have the patience to kill little things like wolves and bears. The only thing she prayed that wouldn't attack her was a dragon, because Divines know she couldn't take it all by herself.

Though she didn't come across many enemies, a low level necromancer being her only "difficult" kill, it was a bit unsettling for the Breton. She had been used to living in the woods with Satha and they had battled many creatures just to claim right to a camp. She knew how vicious and plentiful small things like wolves could be at any time of the day. The fact that not many were showing their faces worried the archer slightly.

It was like nature was letting her save energy and bow for Karliah and the other dangers that mingled with her. Maeva gulped but continued on at a trot, giving her horse resting time.

The only time that the Breton stopped to get off the horse was when she came to the gates of Windhelm, a hold that she would have to pass through to get to her destination. She thought about leaving the exhausted horse to rest in the stables awhile while she took another, but was stopped when the Stable Master seemed to be waiting for her in the first hours of the sunlight.

"Are you Maeva?" he asked her when she stopped in front of him. She frowned under her mask but nodded her head, wondering how he knew who she was.

"Mercer came across this way too, dropped his horse off," the man said, throwing his head to the direction of a horse that almost matched the one the Breton was riding, "Said when a woman came through here to tell her to do the same."

"Did he leave a reason as to why?" the woman's rough voice asked.

"Just told me that you wouldn't need it and not to let you leave with the beast."

Letting out a steadying breath, Maeva forced herself off the horse, feeling a little sore and stiff, but handed the reins to the man. She wanted to just run off with the horse, but if Mercer didn't want her to continue on with it, there must have been a reason. But by the Nine, it was going to take her forever to get to the Sanctum on foot.

"Make sure he's gotten enough rest and food," she advised, like the man didn't know how to take care of a horse, "and if he feels the need to leave back the way we came… I'd let him."

He knew that meant she had stolen the horse, but either Mercer had connections here or he had paid the man enough not to care. He just nodded his head and led the tired creature away.

Looking out into the snowy abyss she was about to trek, Maeva almost let out a groan. It would have been so much easier to just take the horse all the way to the Sanctum. She hoped to Talos Mercer knew what he was doing as the Breton trudged on.

About a mile away from Windhelm, the woman came upon a hunter, paid him well for all his furs, and set herself for the long journey ahead. She was still safe from the wild beasts for some reason, she was warm, and she had energy to make her way. Maeva only hoped she could make it there soon.

Pulling her hood farther over her head, the thief continued on, snuggling the warm furs closer to her body.

It was around this time in the morning that Brynjolf woke for the second time, though this go around his body was cold without the extra warmth of another body. Remembering where Maeva had gone, he let out a quiet sigh while running his fingers through his hair. There was tightness in his chest, one that was full of nervousness and fear, but he knew that he couldn't let it consume him today; not when Maeva needed all the prayers she could get.

He changed into his light armor like it was a normal day, even greeted his fellow brothers like it was, but once he reached the Flagon, it was obvious to Delvin and Vex that he wasn't the usual Brynjolf. They weren't their normal selves either. None of them could be when they knew that the threat of Karliah was out there and that their leader and comrade might not come back.

"This is the hardest part," Vex mused, for once not standing in her darkened little corner by herself. She needed the human interaction to help distract her from the present situation.

"The waiting just starts to eat at you," Delvin continued, rolling a gold coin through his fingers absent mindedly.

"What are your plans to keep the thoughts at bay Bryn?" the blonde third asked, turning her unusually gentle face towards the man who hadn't even sat down. He shrugged his large shoulders and moved passed their table, showing them his back.

"Maybe just wander; visit a few people that owe us money."

He didn't wait around to hear their replies, just kept walking away from the Flagon until he had entered the Ratway, closing off the soft sound from the Thieves Guild. The red head let out another breath and just continued walking through the sewer like place, knowing it better than he knew the back of his little thieving hands.

Even though he didn't use the dingy and usually dangerous path out of the Guild's hideout, Brynjolf still thought of the Ratway as part of his home. He had run down here excitedly as a boy when he had been first recruited into the thieving life, not having been informed of the secret entrance through the small cemetery. He had learned to navigate the ways in the pitch dark, and in these halls had been his first kill; someone who had been looking to take out a fellow member of the Guild, but was lost as to how to get there.

Brynjolf winced at that memory, never having liked to kill someone unless it was necessary, but it was that time he had saved a life in taking it, and had protected Delvin, who soon became his best friend. He would never regret doing what he did and hiding the body, all at the age of fourteen.

When Brynjolf made it to the entrance to Riften and opened the door, he was surprised to see that it was a pleasant day in the Rift, with the sun shining down on them and a light breeze rolling through the town. It was a rare day here in the thieving town, and it was something that all living here would want to experience.

Bryn, however, wanted nothing to do with other people's happiness at the moment. Not even if it left most loose in their coin purse. He only had memories of the past in his mind. He continued to wander, keeping to the shadows of the day as he strolled through the town's people, keeping out of sight and out of mind.

Gallus had always told the young Nord that days like these were to be cherished. Not because few of them happened here, but because of the change it always brought in everyone, even the Guild. Days like these were the dreams for thieves that could dip their hands in the pockets of unsuspecting travelers and indulge in the jingling of stolen coins. Days like these had always made Brynjolf the happiest.

Now all the man could think about was the fact that the person he could celebrate this day with was far away from here, risking her life to avenge a life she had never known.

Brynjolf chuckled at that. Gallus would have loved Maeva. She was the exact kind of spunk and wit that the man could respect and love. Brynjolf only wished she could have been around when he was alive. With her at their sides, there wouldn't have been a single thing they couldn't do.

That's when Brynjolf realized where he had gone. Almost in a complete circle, he found himself staring at the small cemetery that was mostly just a cover for the Guild. Death looked him straight in the face and he had a moment of feeling dizzy enough to get nauseous. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get death out of his mind.

The death of a prospering guild, the death of a leader and father, a death of a lover. It all stared him in the face and made his heart ache.

A kind voice broke the melancholy tyrant in the Nord's mind, making him turn his face away from the graved to find a priestess standing at a Statue of Talos, her uttered words more than likely a prayer to the Divine. Feeling compelled, he walked over to her, a woman he had over looked too many times.

"Talos guide you, child," she said softly when he approached, offering him a ghost of a smile.

"Thank you priestess. Do you think I could ask a favor of you?"

"If it is within my power, consider it done," she replied without hesitation.

"Will you bestow the blessing of the almighty Talos on another and pray for her through a time of need?"

"Give her name and she will be regarded with the utmost care and honor."

"Maeva," Brynjolf whispered, feeling the name slip from his tongue strangely. He had been so used to calling her lass that he wouldn't have been surprised if this was the first time he said her name.

The priestess laughed softly, turning her hooded head to stare back up at the statue, leaving the Nord confused. "What is so funny?"

"If the blessing of Talos is not already with Maeva then he has blessed no one. That woman comes by this shrine every day and says a soft prayer before going through your oh so secret entrance. Talos will be following her carefully, but she will be in my prayers as well."

By the time the sun was only a few hours away from setting, Maeva had made her way to her final destination. With the way that it had been explained, Maeva had expected more from the Sanctum, but was met with an underground cavern like the many she had been in before.

As she made her way to a waiting Mercer, who was standing up from a fire he had built, the Breton passed an abandoned camp as well as a slaughtered horse whose blood stained the pure white snow beneath. Mercer smiled at her as she approached, kicking snow into the fire so it could be extinguished.

"Is that why you wanted me to abandon my horse?"

"It's Karliah's only hope for escape if we don't catch her. That way if she does slip from our fingers, we'll be quick enough to try it again."

Maeva nodded once, understanding the logic, but not the brutality behind it. However, she knew that there was a smoldering hatred deep in Mercer's soul, so he was bound to be a little harsh in his ways.

"Let's get moving. I want to catch her inside while she's distracted. Take the lead."

"The lead, Mercer?"

"You're the archer here Maeva. If we turn a corner and she's there, you're more than likely to get her before I do. I'm just trying to even our odds a little."

"Alright, let's go."


	10. Betrayal

"I've never seen so many Dragur and traps in my life," Maeva breathed out, leaning against a dust covered wall with her hand on her erratically moving chest.

"Thank the Divines I had you with me," Mercer said, his breathing just as ragged, "I don't think I could have taken them all on by myself."

"We make a good team," the Breton teased, her eyes closed as she tried to slow her heart beat down to its normal beat. Other than when she was stealing, she wasn't used to this kind of adrenaline moving through her body at one time. It was almost invigorating.

"Come on, we can't wait for much longer or Karliah will bolt," Mercer's gruff voice barked out, making Maeva snap her deep blue eyes open. His eyes had hardened considerably, but the Breton just waved it off. It was time for the final show down.

While Mercer worked his magic on the door, Maeva took a glass arrow from her quiver, making sure that she dipped it in the poison vile she had kept safe in her pocket during this journey. It glowed a sickly green color for a moment before fading into a clear goop that covered the tip.

When the woman heard the door start to move down from its locked position, Maeva hugged the wall and notched her arrow, putting all her concentration into that one shot, because she was only likely to get one.

The door was completely down for a moment, leaving the hall and next room quiet as the two thieves waited. It was now or nothing.

Maeva threw herself into the room, barely giving herself any time to find the dark body before she went to let the arrow go. However, Karliah had been quicker. Her own poisoned arrow shot straight into Maeva's chest, immobilizing her instantly so she lost her arrow—which went flying who knows where—as well as her bow, and fell to the floor.

Her vision was just as green as her poison had been, and gods did her chest hurt. The arrow was comically sticking out of her body, straight and deadly, but the sharp point was soon overwhelmed by the fact that the woman had hit her head. Her vision blacked out a few times, but she was still very aware what was going on around her.

That's when she saw Mercer step over her body to enter the room. The black clad archer who had shot Maeva down stood not too far away, her bow at her side almost uselessly. Realizing this, she put it across her back and just stood there facing Mercer.

"Do you honestly think your arrow will reach me before my blade finds your heart?" Mercer's voice was a little foggy, sounding deeper than it should have been, but Maeva could hear the words loud and clear. She blamed her throbbing head for the sound. She thought she had a serious head injury when she heard Karliah's voice.

"Give me a reason to try."

_I know that voice_, Maeva thought, desperately trying to place it. It was so damn familiar, but her head was hurting too much. Where had she heard it before?!

"You're a clever girl, Karliah. Buying Goldenglow Estate and funding Honningbrew Meadery was inspired."

"'To ensure an enemy's defeat, you must first undermine his allies'," she quoted, "It was the first lesson Gallus taught us."

Gallus. That name rang a bell too. Pushing forward, Maeva remembered it was the old Guild Master, the one Karliah had killed. The way she said his name though… so sadly…

"You always were a quick study."

"Not quick enough, otherwise Gallus would still be alive."

"Gallus had his wealth and he had you. All he had to do was look the other way."

Look the other way? From what? What had Mercer done that was so bad?

"Did you forget the Oath we took as Nightingales?" Karliah almost spat, sounding furious, "Did you expect him to simply ignore your methods?"

"Enough of this mindless banter!" Mercer shouted, taking out his blades, "Come, Karliah. It's time for you and Gallus to become reunited!"

_Mercer killed Gallus. That son of a bitch murdered a man he had called a friend and blamed it on someone who had loved and mourned the man. That bastard!_

With a small shake to her head, Karliah took out a potion and drank it quickly, wiping her mouth and turning invisible in only a few seconds.

"I'm no fool, Mercer. Crossing blades with you would be a death sentence. But I can promise, the next time we meet, it will be your undoing."

They both could hear as the woman's feet walked away, but had no idea where she was because of the potion. With a grunt, Mercer was forced to turn around and hopefully catch her on the way out. His eyes locked on to Maeva's body, however, and he remembered the nuisance.

"How interesting," he mocked, looking down at Maeva's paralyzed form, "It seemed Gallus's history has repeated itself. Karliah has provided me with the means to be rid of you, and this ancient tomb becomes your final resting place."

He laughed at that, shaking his head like he found himself so hilarious. "But you know what intrigues me the most? The fact that it was all possible because of you. You willingly accepted my invitation to come here, where I was going to be rid of you whether it had ended this way or not. You thought you would come back to the Guild as a hero and take my place, aye? I would never let that happen, not with the knowledge you would have learned. It would have been too suspicious to get rid of anyone else."

If the Breton would have had the ability, she would have spat in the man's cocky face. He had thought she meant to steal his place in the Guild? All Maeva had wanted from them was a place to call home! She should have known something was wrong with the way he glared at her with almost every passing, but she was so caught up in her own life that she never even noticed until now, and she was about to die.

Mercer then took the liberty of taking out his blade which menacingly shined in the dim light that hovered in this place. Maeva knew just how sharp and deadly his blades were, and knew that she wasn't going to make it out of this place alive.

"Farewell. I'll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards."

His dwarven blade hit its mark right in Maeva's stomach, causing agony to course through her. She was lucky, though. The poison had helped make her suffering less. With its help, as well as the blood loss, she was able to slip into unconsciousness, then death.

Maeva's last thoughts were ones of welcoming embraces in Sovngarde and Brynjolf's shattered heart.

* * *

_"Satha," a younger Maeva asked as she looked up at the stars in the sky, "Have you ever been in love?"_

_"Where is this coming from?" the Dunmer asked, her accented voice sounding distant._

_Maeva turned her head to look at the woman and shrugged her shoulders shyly, though she continued on. "I just saw a couple together today and wondered if that would ever happen to me. We're on the road so much, there's usually only time for you and me."_

_Satha put down the bowl she had been using to make her posion and turned her body so it was facing the teen girl. Her purple eyes looked up into the stars as she thought, though they darkened with a deep and long going sadness._

_"Yes, I've been in love."_

_"What was it like?" Maeva asked excitedly, bouncing up in a sitting position and looking just as eager to hear the story as she was to train in archery. Satha laughed and gave her a smile._

_"It was an amazing thing Maeva. Love is something that everyone should cherish. He and I loved each other very dearly, though we kept it a secret so that it wouldn't interfere with our business. He was an extraordinary man."_

_Maeva cocked one of her eyebrows and tucked a piece of her silver hair behind her ear, giving her mentor a serious and confused look. "What happened to him Satha?"_

_"He was killed," the Dunmer said softly, placing her hand in front of the fire to warm her cold body, both inside and out, "By a man with a never ending appetite for riches."_

_"Have you ever loved after that?" Maeva inquired softly, never having seen the woman this sad before. She was used to her being strict and sometimes brutal, but never sad._

_Satha gave her a sad smile, but it was a smile none the less. "Not in the way that you mean. But I have loved. The only other person I've loved besides him was you."_

_Maeva gave Satha that grin that the older woman loved so much. "I love you too Satha."_

"Wake up Maeva. I know you can hear me."

_I know that voice now._

"Satha," the Breton groaned, trying her best to sit up and open her eyes, though she failed when it came to both.

"As you've figured by now, my real name is Karliah," her accented voice commented, helping to push the thief into a sitting position. Maeva whined out in pain, feeling the sharp punch in her stomach whenever she moved an inch. As soon as she was finally in a sitting position and was resting against a very cold stone wall, she was able to open her deep blue eyes.

Satha, or Karliah rather, was crouched in front of her, her hood down and dark brown hair blowing in the slight wind that was reaching them. Her deep purple eyes were searching Maeva's and the Breton couldn't help but let a smile dance across her lips.

"It's been so long since I've seen you."

Despite the circumstances, Karliah managed to give her a smile back, resting her dark skinned hand against Maeva's cheek the way she used to when she was a child. "I would say the same, but I've come across you secretly many times during our separation."

Unlike when she had been poisoned, Maeva's mind was able to register things a lot faster than before. "You were the one that shot that ebony arrow into the dragon, weren't you?"

Karliah nodded her head and sat down on the ground, still facing her friend. "I had been watching you in Riften and when the dragon attacked and you were all having difficulty, I had to step it. I was surprised to see you using poison as well."

"I learned everything I know from you. I save the poison for big scary bears when I go hunting."

The two women laughed together for a moment, but it died quickly when Maeva bent over holding her stomach in pain. Karliah helped her sit back up, and this time her eyes were serious.

"You're lucky I was using a paralytic poison. It slowed your heart and kept you from bleeding out. I had been meaning to use it on Mercer, but the coward had been using you as a shield and I never had a clear shot. I made a split second decision to get you out of the way, and thankfully prevented your death."

"How long did it take to make that poison?"

"Over a year," she sighed, "and I could only make enough for a single shot. I had been hoping to capture Mercer alive."

"Why didn't you just kill the son of a bitch?" Maeva cursed, her voice pained.

"Mercer must be brought before the Guild to answer for what he's done. He needs to pay for Gallus's murder."

"He needs to pay for everything he's done," the Breton growled, holding her stomach even tighter, "but how are we going to prove it after all this time?"

"Using Snow Veil Sanctum to ambush Mercer wasn't simply for irony's sake. Before both of you arrived, I recovered a journal from Gallus's remains. I suspect the information we need is written inside."

"Suspect?" the silver haired woman asked.

"The journal is written in some sort of language I've never seen before," Karliah sighed, for once cursing Gallus's intellect and cunning, "I can only hope it can be translated by Enthir, a friend at the College of Winterhold. He's the only outsider Gallus trusted with the knowledge of the Nightingale identity."

"You're going to have to explain this whole Nightingale thing to me. Who are they?"

"There were three of us. Myself, Gallus and Mercer. We were anonymous splinter of the Thieves Guild in Riften. I'll tell you more about it later, but right now, we need to get you healed up so you can head for Winterhold to get the journal translated."

"Whoa, whoa. Why do I have to go and get it translated, seeing as I'm the one who's hurt?"

"We weren't hiding all that time together because we might have been caught as thieves Maeva. We were hiding because I was wanted by the Thieves Guild for a murder I didn't commit. They had connections everywhere, and still do because they've grown again. I can't risk someone seeing me right now, and you're the only one I can trust for this task. Please Maeva, you need to do this."

With a loud groan, Maeva nodded her head. "Alright, I'll do it. As long as Mercer pays for this, I'll do anything. Give me those nasty healing potions and I should be on my way."


	11. Alone

Not a single person had gone to sleep that night. While everyone had acted like the day had been a normal one, when the whole day and then some had passed and there was still no word of them or that the two thieves were on their way back, the guild members had started to get antsy.

For once, the three higher ups in the Thieves Guild were crowded together in the Cistern rather than the Flagon. They had gathered around Mercer's usual working station, their eyes wandering to the few things that they had stolen that he thought to keep. They weren't talking much except for a few words, but the silence spoke words that they couldn't say aloud.

Brynjolf's callused fingers flipped through the few pages in the job book on Mercer's desk, not really paying attention to the words that were written down. He really wished he had something to do in the twilight hour where thieves usually conquered, but no one had that in mind. The only thing they were wishing for was Mercer and Maeva's return.

"I've never been so jittery in my life," Delvin sighed, rubbing a hand over his bald head.

"Wish I could have tagged along and put my dagger through the bitch," Vex cursed, stabbing said dagger into the table.

"We all wish we could have done the same Vex," Delvin agreed, pulling out the dagger and handing it back to his blonde friend. She pushed down the urge to stab it again.

All was quiet with them again, though not for long. Because of the eerie silence that rang out around the Cistern, it was easy for everyone to hear as the grates to the secret entrance moved, allowing someone quick access to the Guild.

Brynjolf could hear everyone's intake of breathe as they waited to see who would come down the ladder. He also heard them all exhale as Mercer's familiar back and armor came down, though he looked tired and ragged.

Everyone rushed forward to see him then, their mouths posed to ask questions, but Brynjolf stayed in his place. Eventually, the grate above them slid back into place, and no other person came down to the Cistern. Maeva had not come inside.

Mercer had come back alone.

With a small, but dying hope in his heart, Brynjolf walked over to his Guild Master, whose form was being held up by Sapphire and Thrynn. He was assuring everyone that he was okay, just a few cuts that had been infected and some well worn off poisoned stabs.

Brynjolf once again pushed himself to the front of the group, his form catching the Breton's eyes, and he was all serious when he asked him, "What happened? Where is the lass?"

Mercer looked over the Nord's shoulder and stared off, taking his mind back to hours before when he had been battling alongside a fellow thief. "We entered the Sanctum and faced Dragur and traps, ones that Karliah had reset in the most dangerous way, hoping to kill us off before we made it. Maeva had a wonderful eye though. She noticed them before I could and saved my hide on more than one occasion. She was there to snipe off the Dragur before I could sink my blade into them. Without her, I don't know where I would have been."

He stopped his story and winced and hissed at a pain in his leg, but continued on without answering if he was okay or not. His eyes were determined.

"We came up to a puzzle door, which I unlocked, and Maeva got herself ready. I never saw her so determined. She was quick, I have to admit that. But she wasn't quick enough Bryn. As soon as she turned the corner to shoot her arrow, she was struck in the chest by Karliah's ebony arrow. Hit the ground dead."

Mercer cursed the Dunmer's name and the whole Guild could see as a tear left his eye and hit the floor. "By the Nine, it was like seeing Gallus die all over again. She looked so scared, but there was nothing I could do. Karliah knew that she couldn't take me with an arrow before I put a blade through her, so she downed an invisibility potion and left before I could stop her. I regret that I couldn't bring Maeva back here, but I thought it was an honor for her to rest with our lost Guild Master."

"Come on Mercer, we need to get some healing potions in you before you rest," Sapphire mumbled, helping him limp over to the bed by his desk, that way he could be in everyone's sight while they waited for him to heal. Everyone parted to make way for their injured comrade, watching as he was helped away.

Brynjolf was still staring at the place he had been, however. Where he had been standing when he told the Nord that Maeva had died.

_"Your honeyed words can't stop me from going Bryn, no matter what you say."_

_"Promise me you'll be okay then."_

_"I would never offer you a promise that I couldn't keep Brynjolf," Maeva sighed, slightly frustrated._

_"Fine, I bet you one hundred gold pieces you'll come back to me."_

_Maeva let out a chuckle and nodded her head, their noses brushing against one another because they were so close. "I'll take that bet."_

_"I'll be waiting for that nice jingle of coin in my pocket," Brynjolf whispered before kissing her._

"It seems like I owe Maeva's grave some gold," Bryn whispered, his voice pained, "Talos guide you on your way to Sovngarde.

While Brynjolf sent a prayer to the Breton, she was making her way to Winterhold. The travel was faster when she and Karliah had made it to Windhelm, where Maeva had stolen another horse. Karliah wished her the blessing of Lady Luck before Maeva's form was disappearing in the distance.

Although they had pumped the Breton to the brim with many minor healing potions, Maeva could still feel the ache like pain in her stomach, as well as her chest. The chest was the worst pain of the two, however, because the poison was still slowly working its way out of her system, but leaving behind a painful trail of fire as it did so. The silver haired woman cursed Mercer for making her take the arrow, but she was going to make sure he learned worse pain than this.

The longer the woman rode, the lighter the sky started to get. The sun was making its appearance in the sky, slowly warming Maeva's frozen skin. This far north was not the place for a Breton like her. She still wasn't sure how Nords lived in this kind of weather, but the numbness of the cold helped her forget the pain from her rapidly healing wounds.

By the time she reached Winterhold, it was early morning, when the hard working people of holds awoke from their slumber to start a day of living, whether it was cutting wood, learning magic, or wasting their gold away on drink.

Jumping off her horse, Maeva turned to the beast and narrowed her eyes at the mixed colored creature.

"I know you horses are terribly intelligent," she muttered, finding herself crazy for talking to a horse, "knowing how to find your way back home from anywhere, but by the Divines, I need you to stay here. I promise to return you back to your Master once our business is done. Don't make me tie you up."

The horse snorted, rather rudely Maeva thought, but when she let go of the reins, it didn't turn tail to go back home. The Breton nodded her head in approval and pulled her hood closer to her face, making her way to the inn not too far from where she had entered.

It wasn't a very busy place, though that could have been because of how early it was, but the inviting fire would have called any traveler in from the biting winds outside. No matter how warm it had become, Maeva kept her hood and mask on, not wanting to call any attention to herself. The Guild had successfully started to grow back through all the holds, and the woman didn't need a spy getting word to Mercer about her still being alive.

With a quick look around, Maeva noticed an elf sitting directly across from the door, his back turned as he settled into a piece of bread in peace. Ticking off the physical appearance that Karliah had described, this was more than likely the guy she was trying to find.

"Are you Enthir?" her rough voice asked, trying to keep it as quiet as possible. Having heard his name, the elf turned to look up at Maeva.

"What of it?"

"I've been sent by Karliah," the thief voiced quietly, knowing that was all she should need.

"Karliah?" Enthir questioned just as softly, "Then she's finally found it. Do you have Gallus's journal?"

"I do, but there's a problem that she thought you could solve."

"I would hope so," he mumbled, taking the journal as she handed it to him. Reading the first page he already knew he was in trouble and almost groaned.

"This is just like Gallus," he complained, "A dear friend, but always too clever for his own good. He's written all of the text in the Falmer language."

"The language of those ugly Snow elf mutants that are locked away in the dwemer mines? Oh great," Maeva replied sarcastically, "But can you translate it?"

"No. However, I know someone who might. The court wizard of Markarth, Calcelmo, may have the materials you need to get this journal translated."

"You're telling me I have to go all the way to Markarth to get this damned thing translated?" the Breton inquired, waving the now problematic book in her hand.

"Unfortunately, that's correct. Calcelmo is probably the leading man when it comes to the Falmer. A word of warning though; Calcelmo is a fierce guardian of his research. Getting the information won't be easy."

"Good thing I'm one of the best thieves in Skyrim then, huh?" Maeva sighed, wanting to run a hand through her locks. Markarth was so far away. Maeva just wanted this business part over and done with so she could enact her revenge on Mercer Frey.

"Good luck to you. Shadows guide you."

Maeva had a quick word with the inn keeper, getting food and other supplies she would need for the long journey, but after that was done she was off again into the snow. The horse had stayed, the sun was now shining down on them, giving little warmth where the snow was taking it away, and Maeva's destination was on the other side of the world it seemed.

"It'll be worth it in the end when I push my poisoned blade through that traitor's chest," Maeva hissed. Her horse neighed in agreement.

* * *

**A/N: So, guess who finished this story a couple days ago? MEEE. Awwwww yeah. I really like how it ended, and I hope you will too :3 I'll continue with my every other day updates.**

**As well, I'm working on an Ulfric One-Shot right now that I've had in my head for a while now. If you're an Ulfric fan, look out for that.  
**

**And I have this Dark brotherhood story that I write every now and then. Would anyone want to read that? If so, it might prompt me to write it faster.  
**


	12. Journal

All Maeva had to say about Calcelmo was that he could rot in Oblivion and be tortured by every Daedric Prince. The stubborn old man knew how to rub people the wrong way, that's all Maeva could say. Not only had he _refused_ her the right to see his Falmer work—no matter how much she begged it of him—when she told him she needed a journal translated, he almost stole it from her because he wanted to study it. He was lucky he hadn't gotten his hand cut off!

Maeva had then been forced to sneak her way through his museum, passed the guards who weren't very aware of their surroundings, snuck by some hired mercenaries ready to kill her on sight, narrowly avoided dwemer traps of **death**, copied down the key to the translations, then jumped down a damned waterfall. By the Nine, it had been a long day.

Maeva was wet, cold, and near exhaustion, but there was no way she could stop to heal all of her complaints. It had taken her a whole day of nonstop riding to get to Markarth from Winterhold, and she would have to travel back. Her horse was not going to be very happy about it, but he had been faithful throughout her journey, the Breton didn't think he'd mind one more hard days travel.

But she was also taking into account a horse's feelings. She was going mad, Maeva was sure of it. She'd have to ask Karliah if there were any lasting side effects from that poison she had perfected.

"You ready for the ride back, stallion?" Maeva mumbled as she jumped onto the horse's back. He just nickered at her, because he was a beast and couldn't speak—she really needed to remember that—and he was made for this kind of thing.

With a silent click and a jab to the side, Maeva was off back through the snow and biting wind of North Skyrim, and she had to admit that she was missing Riften, and Riften was home.

For the first time in what seemed like years, the young Breton let her mind wander back to the Guild, and most importantly one person. One person who probably thought she was dead, if Mercer had indeed made it back to the Cistern, something she didn't doubt.

The bet they made before their departure flitted through her mind, making her slump her shoulders in sadness. When she finally made it back to him and cleared Karliah's name, Maeva would owe Brynjolf more than just gold. Maybe her heart would suffice for what had been done to him.

Maeva shook her head and couldn't help but smile under her mask. She was having talk of her heart and its feelings, was she? Besides that one conversation the Breton had had with Karliah so long ago, Maeva had never even thought of love and where it came into her life.

She'd always been a thief bouncing city to city, never even having much time for herself, as strange as it was to say. Who was she to settle down with someone when thieving had been her life, when thieving had been this love?

Well, maybe all she really needed was someone who understood the life she lived, or who thought the same way she did. Brynjolf was almost exactly like her and understood her like very many few people could. Maybe that was why she had let herself fall so quickly for him.

There were a lot of damn "maybes" in this thought. Nothing was for sure yet. At this point in time, Maeva's first concern was Gallus's journal and translating it before going after Mercer.

That name made her fists tighten on the reins and prod the horse on faster, who did it begrudgingly. Focus on the mission at hand, worry about the love life later.

* * *

Only a couple days had passed since Mercer's return to the Guild, and already he was walking around, feeling better but his face set in anger as his mind wandered. Some of his inferiors had tried to approach him, whether it be about his health or his job, but he pushed them away with angry words that usually came close to prodding a fight. No one was sure why he was acting the way he was, other than the fact that Karliah had gotten away, but after this happened more than once, they had all learned to just keep away from him.

While Mercer was in his own thoughts of anger, the second in command was lost in his own anger, depression, and agony. He barely let anyone through to talk to him, the only one usually being Delvin, but even he had trouble talking to him. But wasn't it warranted for him to act as so? He had lost someone so close to him that it was like losing himself in a way. He was warranted to lash out, or to sulk, or to drink.

All he wanted right now was Karliah's death, and with the failure that it had been before, he doubted justice would come to them soon. It was more than likely to happen another twenty five years from now, when the traitorous Dunmer died of natural causes. Brynjolf was fond of plotting her death, but even in his dreams it only came out in him dying the same way Maeva had—without a chance.

The first time Brynjolf had talked to anyone other than Delvin was when he had been trudging through the Cistern and had come across Mercer looking a little bit frantic, scurrying around and putting some things into a large bag. His curiosity getting the better of him, the Nord walked up to the still recovering man.

"Mercer what are you doing?"

The elder Breton seemed to jump a little bit at this, turning around to look Bryn in the eye. "I'm leaving for a little while. I'm going to try and find out more information on Karliah's new whereabouts. It will take a long time, but I think if I just immerse myself into the task, it can be done."

"Were you planning on telling anyone?" the Nord asked, offended. He had just come back from a close call at death and hadn't even thanked his friends for helping him, now he was leaving for Nocturnal knows how long without the slightest goodbye to anyone?

"Of course I was Bryn," he scoffed, waving the matter off, "I was going to go and find you as soon as I finished packing. You're my second in command, and with that and my departure, you're the senior member here. You're the one in charge of looking after them, though you've done it so well when I have neglected that part of my job."

"You were busy," the redhead defended, giving a small smile, "I'll miss you my friend. Have a safe journey."

"I will," the Breton nodded, pushing a book into his pack before closing it and head out of the Cistern. Brynjolf watched him the whole entire time until he was gone then sighed. He was in charge, huh? The man wasn't sure if he liked that or not. He had never been good at trying to fix mistakes that he or others caused, and that's what the head of the Guild was supposed to do. Brynjolf thought of himself more of a follower than a leader.

But this would only be for a little while. Once Mercer returned with more information on Karliah, the weight would be lifted off his shoulders and they could all enact their revenge again.

* * *

It was the first hour of the next day when Maeva arrived in Winterhold, her body shaking because of the cold and her eyes drooping from exhaustion. She been so focused on getting back here as quick as she could that when she had stopped, she had only given the horse some food and time to rest before she was off again. She had never done a thing for herself, and it was truly taking its toll on her.

But she was finally here, and the real mission could get started. Enthir could translate the journal and Karliah's name would be cleared in no time. Maeva would soon be home without having to worry about betrayal.

Maeva entered the inn as quietly as she could, trying not to disturb the other guests, and walked up to the keeper. Seeming to know who she was, the man motioned his head to the staircase behind him, signaling that's where she was to go. The Breton gave him a nod and moved her way around, so used to being sneaky that the door opened without a sound.

Both Enthir and Karliah were both in the cellar, looking over some books as they waited, but when they heard Maeva approaching, turned around.

"Back, eh? How was our friend Calcelmo?"

"Just as uncooperative as you said he would be," Maeva growled, thinking back on the very rude old man, "and it was almost impossible to get this, but I did it. This should help translate Gallus's journal."

"I'm curious as to how you managed to get this, but I don't think I _want_ to know, so I won't ask," Enthir grumbled, taking the paper with the charcoal rubbed notes, "Anyway, let's take a look at this."

The elf went around to his table where he could splay the roll of paper and read the journal in the light. His eyes would move back and forth between the two, his mind processing how to read, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

"What? It appears that Gallus had suspicions about Mercer Frey's allegiance to the Guild for months. It looks like he began to uncover what he calls an '…unduly lavish lifestyle replete with spending vast amounts of gold on personal pleasures'. Odd."

"Does the journal say where this so called wealth came from?" Karliah's accented voice asked.

"Yes," Enthir answered, going back through the journal, "Gallus seemed certain that Mercer had been removing funds from the Guild's treasury without anyone's knowledge."

"That bastard," Maeva whispered, "I bet he still did it, even up to this day."

"Anything else, Enthir? Anything about… the Nightingales?"

"Let me look," the man said softly, flipping through pages while looking at the paper on the table. He did this a few times before he finally seemed to find it.

"Yes, here it is. These pages seem to describe 'the failure of the Nightingales' although it doesn't go into great detail. Oh, wait. He also repeatedly mentions his strong belief that Mercer desecrated something known as the Twilight Sepulcher?"

"Shadows preserve us. So it's true…" Karliah gasped, sounding distressed.

"What's true Karliah?" Maeva asked, turning to look at her mentor, "What is the Twilight Sepulcher? What else has Mercer Frey done?"

"I can't talk of that now Maeva, I'm sorry," the Dunmer sighed. She turned to Enthir then. "Farewell, Enthir. Words can't express…"

"Then don't use words," the elf said with a smile, "But I do wish to have a word with your friend privately, if that's not too much to ask.

The women exchanged a glance then Karliah nodded her head. "Alright. I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Enthir waited until the door shut behind the thief before he said a word. "Listen, all I want is the truth to be revealed to the Guild. They respected Karliah, and she deserves better. Do whatever you can and I'd consider it a personal favor."

"I promise you I will clear her name Enthir. I want this just as bad as you do. She will no longer have to hide from her family. Thank you."

He nodded then and turned his back, signaling silently for her to be off. Maeva took the action and went upstairs, coming to Karliah's side.

"I think we should rest before heading back to Riften."

"I agree with that idea," the Breton woman said, letting the exhaustion seep into her voice.

Karliah escorted her friend to the room that she had bought, the large bed room enough for both of them. She sat on one side and patted the seat next to her. When Maeva was sitting, Karliah started to speak.

"You've come this far, I think you should know the secrets behind the Nightingales. The Twilight Sepulcher is the temple of Nocturnal. It's what the Nightingales are sworn to protect with their lives."

"Why does a temple need that kind of protection?"

"Everything that represents Nocturnal's influence is contained within the walls of the Sepulcher. Now it seems Mercer's broken his oath with Nocturnal and defiled the very thing he swore to protect. I know this doesn't answer everything, but it's all that I can tell you right now. I just need you to trust me."

Maeva placed her gloved hand on Karliah's and looked into her deep purple eyes. "I've always trusted you with my life, whether you were Satha or Karliah. Nothing will ever waver my trust in you."

With a relieved smile, Karliah leaned in and hugged the smaller Breton, whispering her thanks into the younger woman's ear. With that, they both went to rest and waited for the coming morning.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for not updating when I was supposed to! I was having a video game day with my sister, and I had to have some time to write my other stories. Hope this chapter makes up for it! Reviews :D?  
**


	13. Proof

It was a little intimidating, coming back into the Guild like a ghost. Maeva hadn't used the Ratway entrance to the Flagon in a long time, and it reminded her of her first adventure here. Karliah was an unusual ball of nerves at her side. Though her hood was up and concealing her face, it was obvious that people were peering at her in question.

"I think they've already begun to suspect who I am. Are you ready to face the Guild?"

"Absolutely."

"Keep your eyes open. I'm not sure what to expect when we enter the Cistern."

"Karliah," Maeva whispered softly, "These people are my friends and family. When they see me with you, they'll understand you can be trusted."

"You're too naïve about this Maeva. While they'll be glad to see you alive, they might think you a traitor as well, being seen with me and all. You'll have to be careful."

Maeva couldn't imagine her fellow thieves thinking such horrible things about her, but this was someone who had been accused of murdering their Guild Master. They were all still very hostile about that. The silver haired woman pulled the hood farther down her face and the furs tighter around her body.

"Let's go."

Rune had been sitting alone at one of the tables facing the dock of the Flagon and had watched the interaction between the two women. He was confused as to who they were, but when the taller of the two turned around, revealing a dark Dunmer face with blazing purple eyes, Rune's mouth almost dropped in shock. Karliah had come straight to the Guild after having killed Maeva? What could she possibly be here for?

Not wasting any time and knowing he had to inform someone, Rune sprinted towards the entrance of the Cistern, not even wasting time to close the door fully behind him. All he had on his mind was telling Brynjolf of who was coming.

"Bryn, Bryn!"

Hearing his name being called, the Nord looked up from Mercer's desk—though he hadn't actually being _doing_ anything-and looked at the man curiously as he ran towards him. "What's the matter lad?"

"She's here, on her way to the Cistern!"

"Who?"

"Karliah!"

Rune hadn't stopped himself from shouting the name, and everyone in the Cistern heard it as it echoed around the place. Brynjolf's eyes blazed with surprise, but mostly anger. So the double murderess had come to them to seek her death sentence? So be it. Taking out his blade, he marched toward the door, ready to run through the Dunmer woman with twenty five years of hate.

Delvin and Vex were instantly at his side, both mimicking his movements with their own weapons. Neither had anything but a hateful face on as they waited in the archway for the purple eyed monster to appear.

To their surprise, whenever she came through, she was joined by another, smaller woman who was covered in a hood and fur skins. It stopped them all for a moment, wondering who it could be with the Dunmer, but it didn't stop Brynjolf from talking. She didn't have her bow out and she would never have time to reach them if she made a move.

"Karliah, what are you doing here you murderous bitch?"

"She's with me, Brynjolf," a familiar rough voice sounded, stopping the Nord's heart with ice. The second woman pushed her hood back, revealing Maeva's scarred face, though it looked grim and tired. All three of the thieves were in shock. Mercer said that the Breton had been killed. What was she doing here?

No matter what Brynjolf felt for the woman, or how hard his heart raced knowing she was alive, the fact that she was with Karliah was worse than seeing her use that poison. While her very alive face had given him hope, her company had shattered it.

"You better have a damn good reason to be here with that murderer. Or was this the plan all along? Side with Karliah and lure Mercer to her so she could kill him too?"

His voice was so full of hate and spite that Maeva was shocked for a moment. She had only heard a fraction of this when he had been talking about Karliah, but now his words were directed at her. And by the gods, did it hurt. She hoped he didn't mean any of them, but she didn't have time to ponder this.

"That's not it at all Brynjolf. Karliah is innocent. We have proof that all of you were misled, even us."

Maybe it was his soft side for the girl, or maybe it was the fact that he secretly wanted to believe her, but Brynjolf slowly sheathed his weapon and stepped back. "No tricks, Karliah or I'll cut you down where you stand."

"You can't be serious Bryn!" Vex exclaimed, her face a mask of shock and sheer anger.

"Mercer left me in charge, so put your weapons away. We are fair people, and we'll hear them out before we send Karliah to her death."

With an encouraging look from Delvin, Vex reluctantly put her blade away, but kept her hand posed, ready to grab it if needed.

"Now what's this so-called proof you speak of?"

"I have Gallus's journal," Karliah spoke, her ghostly voice sending shivers down the three thieves' spines, "I think you'll find its contents disturbing."

Karliah moved closer, trusting that none of her old friend would hurt her, and handed the Nord the journal. Enthir had written his translation between the lines, making it quite clear for Brynjolf to read.

His green eyes scanned the words quickly, taking in everything that the man had said so long ago. He had suspected Mercer for horrible things, for crimes against the Guild, and while Brynjolf thought he knew Mercer would never do these things, he was going up against Gallus's thoughts.

"No, it… it can't be."

"It's true Brynjolf. Every word," Maeva retorted, stepping forward as well, "While we worked our asses off trying to get the Guild back on its feet, Mercer was there in the shadows stealing from right under our noses and sending us back. He tricked all of us Bryn."

"There's only one way to find out if what you're saying is true." Turning to his right hand man, Bryn barked out an order. "Delvin, I'll need you to open the Vault."

"Now wait a damn minute, what does the book say?"

"Says that Mercer's been stealing from the Vault, and that Gallus was looking into it before he was murdered."

The small group started to move, towards a place Maeva had never really noticed before, not like there was much to notice. It was a big steel door, something that looked intimidating and impossible to open even with keys. That's when Maeva remembered Mercer's great skills with problematic doors.

"How can Mercer open up a vault that needs two keys? It's impossible. Could he pick his way in?"

"That door has the best puzzle locks money can buy. There's no way it can be picked open, not even by Bryn," Vex confirmed, her glare set on the Vault.

"When the two of us went to Snow Veil Sanctum, Mercer had a way of opening doors that would have been impossible to unlock," the Breton woman chimed in, making the four look at her, "I had just thought he had better lock picking skills then I ever would."

"No, he didn't need to pick the lock," Karliah confessed.

"Now what are you on about?" Delvin inquired, his eyes narrowed at the Dunmer.

"Use your key on the Vault, Delvin. We'll open it up and find out the truth," the red head interrupted.

Without another word to argue, the two men headed to the Vault, the golden keys in their hands, ready to unlock the Vault the only way they knew how. Deep down, Bryn hoped that the two women were right. With all this new evidence, he was starting to see everything connect. However, he didn't want this to be Mercer; anyone but Mercer. He had always trusted him.

"Still locked up tighter than a drum," Delvin mused, backing away from the door, "now use yours."

Without a second's hesitation, Brynjolf pushed his key into the lock and pushed the heavy doors open. What he saw he could never believe, but a small part of him knew it was real. Mercer, one of the man's oldest friends, had betrayed him and his family.

"By the Eight! It's gone, everything's gone! Get in here, all of you!"

"The gold, the jewels… it's all gone," Delvin whispered, his eyes scanning the too empty room. Everything that they had worked for since Lady Luck left them was all gone. It was like a blow to the heart.

"That son of a bitch!" Vex raged, "I'll kill him!"

"Get in line," Maeva growled, fighting of the urge to punch something. She knew that everything would be gone, but it hurt so bad to see it in person. She wished that they had just taken them at their word.

"We can't afford to lose our heads," Brynjolf acknowledged, "We need to calm down and focus."

"Fine, we'll do this you're way. Mercer did leave you in charge." The blonde's last statement was spit out.

"Mercer left?" Karliah asked, her eyes wide.

"He left just yesterday, saying he was going to investigate into your whereabouts then come back here before dealing with you. With the loot he took with him, I doubt he's ever coming back," Brynjolf growled, trying to keep his anger in check.

"We'll go watch for him anyway, just to make sure. Maybe ask some of the town's folk if they've seen him around."

Brynjolf nodded and watched as Delvin and Vex walked away. His eyes turned to Karliah and Maeva, but his gaze was mostly for the Breton. Sensing him watching her, she turned her blue eyes to him and all he could see was sorrow in them.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Karliah mumbled, backing away to sit down on a bed nearby.

With a deep breath, Maeva walked back to Brynjolf, who was still in the doorway to the Vault. They were cut off from everyone's sight, and she didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

The two stared at each other for a long moment, neither saying anything as they studied one another. It had been a week at most, but it felt like a lifetime since they had last seen the other. Maeva was thinking of some way to break the silence when Brynjolf did it for her.

He leaned down and crashed his lips to hers, his hands going to her cheeks to keep her in the kiss, like she was going to pull away. They stayed like that until they needed to break away. Brynjolf's callused hands didn't let go of her face, however, and he rested his forehead against hers with his emerald eyes closed.

"I thought you dead lass," his whispered, his voice barely strong enough for that. He couldn't speak any louder or he would break, "When Mercer came in here saying you hadn't survived, I died with you."

"He used me as a shield, Bryn," Maeva confessed, reliving the moment when Karliah's arrow had taken her, "Karliah was forced to shoot me and I fell to the ground, paralyzed, but I still heard everything. He stole from the Guild and he killed Gallus because of his greed."

"Then what?"

"When Karliah disappeared, Mercer turned back to me and said that this was a perfect time to get rid of me; that I had been after him the whole time. You know what he said just before he stabbed me in the gut?" Maeva laughed harshly, feeling tears leaving her closed eyes, "He said he'd give you my regards."

Brynjolf kissed the woman again, harder this time but it was short. There was a new found anger in his heart now, for what Mercer had done to him and his family, but also for what he had done to Maeva. It would not go unpunished.

"Karliah dragged me to safety after that and helped me heal. She told me of what we had to do and I trusted her enough to do it."

"Why would you trust a stranger lass? She's still dangerous."

Maeva smiled at that and when Brynjolf opened his eyes he was confused. "She's not a stranger Brynjolf."

"You knew her?"

"She disguised herself for all those years Bryn; as a Dunmer named Satha. The same one who took me in as a child and made me the archer I am today."

Brynjolf snickered and rubbed his nose against Maeva's. "You sure know how to make friends don't you. I guess I owe Karliah the hugest apology and double thanks for saving your life, all those years ago as well as recently."

"Brynjolf, if I didn't know any better, I would think you've fallen for me," the Breton woman repeated, her blue eyes looking mischievous as she stared into the Nord's green ones.

"What if I have lass?"

"Then I would tell you that I've fallen for you as well and that I sadly have to give up one hundred gold pieces."

The red head barked out a gruff laugh, one he never thought he would make again. Without another word, he pressed the Breton against the wall and promised to kiss her to Oblivion when he had the chance.


	14. Nightingales

"Nothing?"

"We haven't heard a thing about him," Vex growled, her hands twitching at her side, "We've asked all our contacts here in Riften and we even ventured farther out into the Rift, but we haven't heard anything of his whereabouts."

"That's just like Mercer," Karliah mused, "he always knew how to cover his tracks."

"Let's just hope that the lass found something at the manner," Brynjolf sighed, his shoulders slumping as he used the previous Guild Master's desk for support. With a sympathetic glance, Vex mumbled something about going to keep watch for anything suspicious before she left the company.

"We'll find him Bryn," the Dunmer spoke up, catching the red haired man's attention, "Even if it takes another twenty five years, we'll find him."

"I won't let it take that long Karliah. Gallus's death has gone unavenged for far too long. I'm sorry that we were after the wrong person for so long, but his death won't go unpunished this time."

"Trust me Brynjolf, I understand your hatred right now more than anyone," the woman spoke softly, her head down turned. Brynjolf's green eyes softened a little as he looked at his friend. It was nice to call her that again.

"I'm sorry you've had to run and hide this entire time Karliah," the Nord voiced, "You were wrongly accused of murdering someone we all loved and I haven't apologized for it yet."

"I don't blame any of my brothers and sisters in crime Bryn. Mercer always knew how to weave a good lie, we all knew it. I would be lying if I said nothing good happened during my time away," Karliah confessed, her head turned back up with a small smile on her face.

"The lass told me about your other identity," Brynjolf said, speaking of the silver haired archer, "Of how you saved her when she was so close to death. That's the Karliah I always knew."

"I taught her to be honorable, if that's even possible for a thief. I thought if I kept her honest, nothing like this betrayal would ever fall on her. I never expected her to get tangled up in this mess, though I guess it was bound to happen if she was involved with me." The Dunmer sighed. "Sometimes I wish I had just patched her up and left her with a nice family so she could have a normal life."

"She spoke so highly of you, you know," the Nord interrupted, catching the woman's attention, "The lass called herself lucky to have been saved by you and get the chance to live with you while she could. You were more of a family than she's ever had. I don't think she'd really be happy right now if she had lived that other life."

"You love her, don't you?" Karliah questioned, though she already knew the answer. Brynjolf turned his head away for a second, but nodded in confirmation. There was no point in being embarrassed about being caught.

"I do love the lass."

"She's an amazing woman and I couldn't have matched her better with anyone else. But cherish the time you have together; you never know when someone you love will get taken away."

The second was about to comment on the hidden meaning behind the woman's words, but was cut off by the sound of the grate to the secret entrance opening up. Not even a minute later a panting Breton was running over to the two, a piece of parchment in her hands.

"We've got ourselves a lead," Maeva breathed out, slapping the paper onto the table for the red head to red.

His green eyes scanned the words on the paper slowly, trying to digest everything it said, and shock was the only thing running through his veins. "Shor's beard! He's going after the Eyes of the Falmer?"

"That was Gallus's pet project," Karliah spoke up, thinking about how enthusiastically the man had talked about the heist, "If he gets his hands on them, you can be certain he'll be gone for good and set up for life."

"Then we have to stop him."

"Agreed," Brynjolf almost growled, "He's taken everything the Guild has left, and to go after one of the last greatest heists is just an insult."

"The time has come to decide Mercer's fate, Brynjolf. Until a new Guild Master is chosen, the decision falls on you."

"And I've come to a decision. Mercer Frey tried to kill both of you, he betrayed the Guild, murdered Gallus and made us question our future. He needs to die."

"I have no arguments on the matter," Maeva spat, arms crossed over her chest.

"If he is to die, we all need to be very careful. Mercer is a Nightingale, an Agent of Nocturnal. That makes him even more dangerous."

"Then it's all true…" Brynjolf pondered, "everything I heard in the stories. The Nightingales, their allegiance to Nocturnal and the Twilight Sepulcher."

"Yes. I may not be able to tell you everything just yet, but trust me when I say we need to prepare ourselves and meet Mercer on equal footing."

"What do you mean Karliah?" Maeva questioned.

"Just outside of Riften, beyond the Southeast Gate is a small path cut up the mountainside. At the end of that path is a clearing and an old standing stone. I'd ask you both to meet me there, but we all need to exit separate ways. Just because Mercer's gone doesn't mean his influence is. As soon as we meet up, I'll tell you everything."

"We'll make our preparations then," the Breton nodded, "You go first and wait for us. We'll meet up with you shortly."

The purple eyed Dunmer nodded her head and headed to the secret entrance. The two thieves watched her walk away before turning to one another. Maeva smiled briefly at Brynjolf.

"I'm going to head out through the Ratway. Go the same way Karliah did in a couple minutes. And please, be safe."

"I promise," he whispered, bringing the woman closer to him to kiss her lightly on the lips. Maeva lingered for a little bit longer but forced herself to turn away and get her things ready. She could feel Brynjolf watching her walk away.

As fast as she could, Maeva packed everything that she would need on this journey. Powerful arrows of every kind were gently placed into her quiver, a dagger found home in a sheath on her hip, and the woman also exchanged her gloves for a pair of metal covered gauntlets if it came down to a fisted brawl. She also took some healing potions, hoping that she wouldn't need them, as well as some stamina potions just in case her strength failed her.

The Breton was about to head out when something else caught her eye. Her poisons. She didn't have much left, only enough green ooze for a dozen or so arrows and just enough to cover her dagger, but she tucked it into her boot anyway. Mercer deserved the pain this nasty concoction brought on. Putting the antidote in her other boot, Maeva headed out through the Ratway.

When she reached the door, however, it was being blocked by a blonde woman leaning against it; a very determined looking Vex. The Imperial spoke before Maeva could.

"I know I've never been the nicest to you, but I want you to know that I'm counting on you to kill Mercer and bring Brynjolf and Karliah back safe. If anyone can do all those things, it's you."

The words seemed to cause the woman pain, but she had gotten over that and had said them anyway, no matter how out of character it was for the Imperial. Maeva wanted to smile but knew it would only make her angry so she nodded.

"I promise to do all of that and more Vex. You have my word."

"Then get out of here," she said in her usual snarky voice, pushing herself off the door and walking past the smaller woman.

Maeva didn't look back, just exited through the door and made her way hastily out of the underground.

The place that Karliah had specified them to meet wasn't that far from the hold, only a casual walk away from the town. It was so close that when Maeva looked behind her, she could see Brynjolf making his way out after her, and she was already half way there.

In the early hours of the night, it was easy to spot the Dunmer, clad in her Thieves Guild armor. When she spotted Maeva she rushed up, only waiting for the Nord to show up a couple minutes later.

"What's the significance of this place Karliah?" he questioned as soon as he could.

"It's the headquarters of the Nightingales, cut into the mountainside by the first of our kind. We've come to seek the edge we need to defeat Mercer Frey."

"Who knew this was here all along…" the man stated, looking at the mountainside that didn't really look like much if you only glanced.

"What kind of edge?"

"Just follow me and I'll explain everything Maeva."

The three entered through a door hidden by the shadows and walked through. In the beginning, it wasn't much, but it meant a lot to Brynjolf.

"So, this is Nightingale Hall. I heard about this place when I joined the Guild, but I never believed it existed."

"I feel like an unworthy thief, never having heard of Nightingales."

"I tried to keep all of that away from you when you were growing up Maeva," Karliah confessed, catching the younger woman's attention, "I didn't want you to get into all this mess, but there's no choice now."

"I guess that makes sense, seeing as I'm not a religious man. You have no choice other than to pick us."

"You two are the best I've got," she finalized, moving them down into a larger room that still looked more like a cave than anything else, "This is Nightingale Hall. You're the first of the uninitiated to set foot inside it for over a century. Now, if you'll both proceed to the armory to don your Nightingale Armor, we can begin the Oath."

Brynjolf and Maeva looked at each other, both a little lost, but did as the Dunmer commanded. They entered the room and saw two sets of armor sitting upon pedestals, both looking brand new and stealthy against the shadows.

"This is enough to make your head spin," the Nord muttered, picking up the armor and pressing it against his body. It was going to be a tight but perfect fit, something he was used to when being a light armor user.

The man was tempted to watch as Maeva stripped and redressed in the tight black armor, but kept his mind serious, knowing that this was a serious matter. In only minutes, they were fully dressed, as was Karliah as she entered the room they were in.

"You were hiding this great armor from me Karliah? I'm hurt," Maeva teased, still finding some humor in their situation. Under her mask, the Dunmer smiled.

"You both appear ready for the Oath, let's go."

"Okay Karliah. We've got these getups on… now what?"

"Beyond this gate," the elder said, motioning towards their future path, "is the first step in becoming a Nightingale."

"Whoa there," Maeva spoke up, stopping them all, "I appreciate the armor, but becoming a Nightingale? That was never discussed."

"To have any hope of defeating Mercer, we must have Nocturnal at our backs. And if she's to accept you as one of her own, and arrangement must be struck."

"What sort of arrangement? We need to know the terms or this isn't happening," Brynjolf demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"The terms are quite simple, Brynjolf. Nocturnal will allow you to become a Nightingale and use your abilities for whatever you wish. And in return, both in life and in death, you must serve as a guardian of the Twilight Sepulcher."

"There's always a catch," the Breton woman sighed, regretting ever putting on this damned armor. But if it meant having an advantage when it came to killing Mercer, so be it.

"At this point, I suppose there isn't much to lose. If it means the end of Mercer Frey, you can count me in."

"And you Maeva?"

"I'm ready, let's just get this over with before I change my mind."

"Good. After I open the gate, stand on the western circle; Bryn, you're on the eastern circle."

The two followed after the Nightingale and Maeva felt nervous. She had never really served anyone in her life. She'd had leaders and masters, but never someone she would have to obey. The Breton always had the freedom to walk away from a deal. What would she do when she didn't have that luxury?

Feeling her nervousness, Brynjolf's gloved hand wrapped around Maeva's, catching her attention. He couldn't give her a smile because the mask was in the way, but tightened his hold to let her know he was there. She gave him a secret smile and didn't let go of his hand until they were forced to separate.

Karliah took the northern circle, and when the other two were in place, spread her arms and started.

"I call upon you Lady Nocturnal, Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow. Hear my voice!"

There was a small silence after Karliah's voice died from the room, but was picked up by the voice of a woman who wasn't there. The voice of Nocturnal.

"Ah, Karliah. I was wondering when I'd hear from you again. Lose something did we?"

"My Lady, I've come before you to throw myself upon your mercy and to accept responsibility for my failure," Karliah apologized, going to one knee before the unbodied spirit.

"You're already mine, Karliah," the voice said in a bored tone, "Your terms were struck long ago. What could you possibly offer me now?"

"I have two others that wish to transact the Oath; to serve you both in life and in death."

"You surprise me Karliah. This offer is definitely weighted in my favor."

Brynjolf didn't like the way the Daedric Prince was talking about them, but kept his mouth shut. Nothing that he would have said would have made this ordeal easier.

"My appetite for Mercer's demise exceeds my craving for wealth, Your Grace."

"Revenge?" The word seemed almost foreign to the voice, "How interesting. Very well, the conditions are acceptable. You may proceed."

Karliah stood up then, happy that her Lady had finally forgiven her for everything she had done wrong against her. Now it was time to bring Maeva and Brynjolf into the family of the Nightingales, no matter how much she didn't want to.

"Lady Nocturnal, we accept your terms. We dedicate ourselves to you as both your avengers and sentinels. We will honor our agreement in this life and the next until your conditions have been met." The memorized words flowed from Karliah's mouth like a long lost flavor.

"Very well," Nocturnal spoke, "I name your initiates Nightingales and I restore your status to the same, Karliah. And in the future, I'd suggest you refrain from disappointing me again."

The room seemed to lighten up as soon as the dark goddess left, making it easier for all three of them to breathe. Taking Karliah's lead, the two new Nightingales met at the center of the circle.

"Now that you've transacted the Oath, it's time to reveal the final piece of the puzzle to you; Mercer's true crime."

"He's done more than wipe us clean and kill Gallus?" Brynjolf said almost sarcastically.

"Mercer was able to unlock the Guild's vault without two keys because of what he stole from the Twilight Sepulcher… The Skeleton Key. By doing this, he's compromised our ties to Nocturnal and in essence, caused our luck to run dry."

"So the Key unlocks any door?" Maeva said, awed.

"Well, yes. But the Key isn't only restricted to physical barriers," Karliah explained, "All of us possess untapped abilities; the potential to wield great power, securely sealed within our minds. Once you realize the Key can access these traits, the potential becomes limitless."

"First time I've ever set out to return something," Brynjolf chuckled, having a hard time taking all of this in.

"Very true my friend. In our line of work, it's quite rare we set out to return a stolen item to its rightful owner."

"Let's get this over with then."

"Before we go, there's something we have to address lass," Brynjolf said, making the small Breton turn to him.

"And what would that be?"

"The leadership of the Guild."

"What does that have to do with me?" Maeva asked, confused as to where this was going.

"Karliah and I had a long discussion after I sent you to go get Mercer's plans," Brynjolf started, smiling as he looked over at the Dunmer, "Thanks to everything you've done, we have Karliah back in our family and Mercer's treachery has been exposed. After we deal with him, all that remains is restoring the Guild to its full strength."

"Brynjolf…"

"Let me finish lass," the Nord said softly, putting up his hand, "Ever since I saw you on the streets of Riften and invited you to join our family, the Guild has done nothing but grow and grow. You are the reason that our name now holds power in all the holds. You brought luck back to us. Karliah and I both feel that you have the potential of replacing Mercer as leader of the Thieves Guild."

"Bryn, this doesn't seem right," Maeva said, shaking her head, "I've only been with the Guild a couple months; you've been here for years. The Guild should be yours."

"I've been at this game a long time lass. A long time," Brynjolf sighed, sounding older than he was, "I've stolen trinkets from nobles and framed priests for murder. I'm damn good at what I do, maybe even one of the best. But it's all I know. I've never been one to lead. I could barely handle the pressure on me whenever Mercer wasn't taking care of our family. I've never desired leading, never cared for it. I don't want it."

"This doesn't seem right Brynjolf," She repeated.

"Look Maeva," Brynjolf said, shocking the silver haired women by using her name. He placed a hand gently on her face, trying to convey that he really meant this, "You care so much for this Guild, I know you do. And you enjoy it too much to see it wither away just after we've reached our prime. You're the only one I trust to lead us."

Maeva rested her forehead against Brynjolf's and closed her eyes, letting it all sink in. Who knew this would happen? Hell, all Maeva had been expecting from this life was the jingle of coin in her pocket and brothers and sisters around her as they told stories of their heists. She had gotten all that and more; a family that loved her, her mentor back, a man that loved her for who she was, and the respect her thievery had earned her.

"I accept," she all but whispered.

"Then it's decided," Bryn said happily, slightly pulling away, "When this is all over and Delvin's contacts assure me that we've regained our footing in Skyrim, we'll handle the details."

"Until then," Karliah spoke up, "we have a task ahead."


	15. Revenge

"If I never seen another dwarven spider or Falmer as long as I live, it'll be too soon," Maeva panted, resting for a moment against a wall, her eyes closed as she tried to breathe normally again.

"You alright lass?" Brynjolf murmured, checking over the black clad woman.

"I'll be fine. Let's just keep going. Mercer can't be too far away now."

Taking this as a sign to go again, Karliah started walking off, keeping watch for more traps they were sure to encounter. The Nord wasn't so convinced by Maeva's words and stopped her for a moment before she went to walk away.

"Are you really alright? I can't have you weak when we go up against Mercer. I'm not going to take the chance of losing you."

Maeva smiled under her mask and nodded her head, finding it sweet that the man was worrying about her. "I'm fine. I promise you Frey won't take me unawares. Let's go before he has the chance to take the Falmer eyes and leave."

Brynjolf nodded and quickly lead them back to Karliah, who hadn't even noticed they were missing. As they continued on through the Dwemer ruins, Maeva cursed up and down as she battled against Falmer and Dwarven contraptions alike, all giving them a run for their coin as they came at the Nightingales in masses.

The Breton wasn't sure how, but they had managed to kill them all without any major injuries so far, and it was giving the woman a sick feeling in her stomach, The last time things had gone this smoothly, Mercer had ended up trying to kill her. And she wasn't going to let this end the same way.

After their latest battle, they traveled through the gates the Falmer had created and through a tunnel, with the Dunmer leading away. She slowed her pace down until she stopped, calling the attention of the other two.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered, straining her ears, "I can hear water rushing through those pipes. We must be beneath a lake."

"I don't even remember seeing one on the way over here," Brynjolf said, "How big is this place?"

"Past the water I can hear the Falmer and their vile pets moving around," Maeva spat, promising to never go down into one of these caves again.

"This will be the first time we've gotten the drop on them. Maeva, help me snipe them from the entrance. That will make this go a lot faster."

Maeva nodded at the order and they snuck through, leaving Brynjolf behind so he was safe with his weapons. Together, Maeva and Karliah slowly killed all the Falmer and their pets without any of them detecting where they were. All that was left was a pile of bodies and blood pooling on the ground. They all thought of it as good riddance.

"There's a door up ahead."

"He's close. I'm certain of it," Karliah spoke, tension in her voice, "We must prepare ourselves."

"Then this is it," Bryn replied, coming at a stop at the door, "We do this for Gallus and for the Guild."

With a shaky intake of breath, Maeva opened the door as quietly as she could, leading the three of them inside. Each of their multicolored eyes could see that Mercer was just finishing up taking the Eyes of the Falmer, but that had his total attention.

"He's here and he hasn't seen us yet. Brynjolf, watch the door."

"Nothing's getting by me," he growled.

"Maeva, climb down that ledge and see if you can—"

"Karliah, when will you learn you can't get the drop on me?" Mercer's cocky voice interrupted, and they could all hear the smirk in his voice.

It was then that the Breton man used his power to do something that caused the whole cave to shake. The three Nightingales looked up as the room shook with the tremor and it came as a shock when the ledge that Maeva had been standing upon suddenly started to crumble until it fell.

Maeva fell with it and she screamed out of surprise, tumbling with the rocks until her body came to a stop, though it ached with the pain of falling from such a height.

"Maeva!"

"I'm fine!" the woman groaned, slowly starting to get up. However, there was no way for her to get back up, and there was no way for the other two to get down.

Mercer managed to jump down gracefully from the head of the statue to only a couple hundred feet away from Maeva, and she could now see his smug little face.

"When Brynjolf brought you before me, I could feel a sudden shift in the wind," he mused, juggling one of the Falmer Eyes in his hands, "And in that moment, I knew it would end with one of us at the end of a blade."

"Give me the Key Mercer," Maeva said slowly, though she let the venom talk through the few words.

"What's Karliah been filling your head with? Tales of thieves with honor? Oaths rife with falsehoods and broken promises? Nocturnal doesn't care about you, the Key or anything having to do with the Guild."

"This isn't about Nocturnal, Mercer. This is personal!" Maeva shouted, drawing her previously poisoned blade, "You cared nothing for the Guild or the people you were meant to represent. Those thieves you left behind were your family, and you've been stealing from them for years! And worst, you killed someone who will always be better than you, all because you were too greedy for your own good!"

"Revenge is your cause, is it? When will you open your eyes and realize how little my actions differ from yours? Both of us lie, cheat and steal to further our own end."

Maeva's fist tightened around the green blade in anger, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the man before her. "I would never murder someone I called a friend. You are a monster Mercer. I may lie, cheat and steal, but I still have honor, you son of a bitch."

"Karliah, what are we going to do?" Brynjolf said from the door, looking down at the two shouting Bretons. It was clear that the Nightingales were in no position to help.

"I don't know Bryn. I don't think I can take a shot at Mercer from here, no matter how good my bow is. And we can't risk our lives climbing down there."

"Are we supposed to let the lass take Mercer on her own?"

"It's our only choice… Nocturnal guide her."

"It's clear you'll never see the Skeleton Key as I do. Instead, you've chosen to fall over your own foolish code," Mercer yelled, catching the Nightingales attention again.

"If anyone falls, Mercer, it will be you," Maeva threatened, her voice like ice.

"Then the die is cast, and once again my blade will taste Nightingale blood!"

In that moment, Mercer pulled the same trick Karliah had back in Snow Veil Sanctum. He downed an invisibility potion with a smirk and disappeared in an instant, his form gone from sight.

"Shit!" Brynjolf cursed.

"Karliah, I'll deal with you after I deal with your companion here," Mercer's disembodied voice echoed, "In the meantime, maybe you and Brynjolf should get better _acquainted_."

Something painful hit Brynjolf then, making his back bow as he yelled out in pain. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that his blade was out and that he was fighting Karliah, who was on his side.

"What's going on? I can't stop myself!"

"Damn you Mercer!" Karliah cursed, blocking the Nord's attack with her bow, "Fight it Brynjolf! Mercer's taken control of you."

"I'm sorry, I can't."

"Karliah, Bryn!"

"Don't worry about them Maeva," Mercer's voice hissed, followed by a painful slice to the Breton's side, "You still have to worry about me."

Blindly, Maeva slashed her blade out, hoping to at least nick the man who had caused her to bleed. Even if it was a small cut, the poison would start to take its toll on him and slow him down. Unfortunately, the man was too quick for her and weaved out of the way; not that she would know because she couldn't see him. He took another stab at her and caught her arm, making her hiss in pain.

"Maeva!" Karliah shouted down at her, even though she was still fighting her own battle, "There are tricks to invisibility potions! You can always see a little waver of their form if you concentrate hard enough. Put the skills I taught you to work and kill him!"

She expected her to be able to be calm and concentrate when Mercer was cutting her to pieces? If she tried that, she wouldn't stand a chance.

Mercer took another swipe at the Breton right across the back, cutting the armor open a little and letting the blood from the wound seep out as Maeva cried out in pain. Concentration was her only hope, might as well fight back if she could.

Maeva narrowed her eyes briefly as she looked around, putting everything she had into her vision instead of her other senses. She didn't feel the pain of her wounds, and she couldn't hear the sounds of battle behind her. She could only see now, and she saw that small glow that Karliah had been talking about.

"Got you," Maeva whispered and leapt forward, catching the man by surprise as his hand was cut by her blade. Maeva knew it wasn't much, but it was enough. The poison wouldn't kill him, but it would slow him down enough and cause the potion to leave his body.

Mercer's form began to flicker as he fled, slowly coming back into view before he was completely exposed. Still ignoring everything but the man that needed to die, Maeva chased after him, pushing the pain from her mind as she climbed and jumped over debris.

When the older Breton was trapped in a corner, he was forced to turn around and look at the woman coming towards him, looking just as fierce as a Saber Cat stalking her prey.

"You will fall tonight Mercer. Your soul will be sent to Oblivion and be tortured for the horrible things you've done."

"If I'm going, I'm taking you with me!" He yelled, pushing his blade forward, letting it sink into the woman's belly.

No matter how painful, Maeva was able to ignore the wound and do the same with her poisoned blade, though it went straight into the traitor's heart. It was a beautiful sight, seeing the absolute agony written on Mercer's face.

Brynjolf was then able to control his body, letting it sink to the floor in exhaustion as he breathed heavily. The pain was gone from his body and he could only guess that Maeva had managed to kill Mercer, though from his position on the ground, he couldn't see them.

Maeva left the blade in the man's heart but wretched his out of her body with a silent cry, watching as it came away with blood and feeling the rest as it oozed from her body. It hurt like his last stab had, and the pain almost topped the cut to Maeva's throat, but she had to stay on task.

She felt as the pipes around them exploded, felt as the water started hitting her face, but she dug around in Mercer's pockets for the things they had come for. The Skeleton Key was first, which was placed in the most secure pocket in her bag. Along with that came the two Falmer eyes, as well as some jewels that the man had no doubt stolen from the Guild vault.

"I've got them," Maeva yelled, though both of her companions could tell that something was wrong.

"Maeva, what's wrong? We can't see you!"

"Nothing, it's nothing," she lied, holding a hand to her stomach to try and stop the bleeding. She uncorked her last minor healing potion and knew that it wouldn't do much. It was going to heal her other cuts before it even got the chance to work on the surely fatal wound, "How are we going to get out of here?"

The Breton's voice was almost washed out by the water that was continuing to gush into the room, but Brynjolf heard her.

"I don't know. Something must have fallen on the other side of the door because it isn't opening."

"We have to find another way out of here before the place fills with water!"

Maeva went to get up from Mercer's body to look for another way out but the overwhelming pain caused her to shout in agony and keep her in place, her blue eyes closed as her hands clutched at the wound harder. There was so much blood dripping through her fingers…

"Lass, what's wrong?" Brynjolf yelled, looking over the edge to see her kneeling and holding herself.

"He got me real good Bryn," Maeva hissed, not wanting to move, "I… I don't know if I'll be able to get out of here."

Not even thinking, Brynjolf jumped off the edge of the crumbled ledge and into the water, with the rising flood cushioning his fall. He ran as fast as he could to the injured woman, ignoring the dead man, and knelt by her side.

"Let me see lass," he said gently, pulling at her arms. He could already tell it was bad with how much blood had puddled to the ground. When he saw the gaping wound he was even more concerned. It was huge and gushing blood like the pipes were gushing water.

"Mercer's not going to take you away from me again," the Nord growled, moving one of her arms back over her wound while the other circled around him.

"I think I see a way out of here!" Karliah's voice was able to shout over the pouring water, "But we'll have to swim up to reach it after the water's filled the room."

"You think you can make it that long lass?" Brynjolf questioned seriously, looking down at the wounded woman. She nodded her head and held tightly onto Brynjolf as they stood up, though she groaned in pain. She would have to ignore it. Freedom was only a room full of water away.

Karliah joined them at the top of the stairs and saw Maeva's wound and stopped in her tracks. There was so much blood, she wasn't sure what was going on. She wanted it all to be Mercer's, but with one look down at his body, she knew it wasn't true. The Dunmer rushed the rest of the way over and pulled the mask and hood off the Breton, exposing her face.

"Listen to me Maeva," she spoke softly, almost too soft, "this is just like the time I found you in the woods when you were so small. You were bleeding so much I didn't think you were going to make it. You might want to pass out because of the blood loss, but I promise you I won't let this room be your resting place. I'm going to heal you up just like I did all those years back."

"I trust you Satha, I always have," Maeva mumbled, pushing herself to be extra strong. Karliah smiled and pulled her mask down so she could kiss the woman's forehead.

The three of them could only wait as the water started to get higher and higher. It quickly started to pool up to their knees, soaking them as it continued to climb, and when the cold water hit Maeva's wounds she whimpered in pain. Brynjolf held her tighter as the water hit his chest.

"I love you Maeva," he said to her, not caring if Karliah heard his confession.

Through the pain, Maeva was able to turn her head and give the man a weak smile. "I love you too Brynjolf."

Having to hold Maeva made it a little harder for Brynjolf to swim when the time came, but when Karliah moved to help him with her other side, they were able to do it, though it was still harder. They were so concerned about her that they were struggling to keep their heads above the water some times.

"It's right over there," Karliah sputtered, pointing over to a tunnel that was getting closer and closer. Everything was looking up until they felt Maeva's body sag against them. Turning to look at her, Brynjolf saw that her eyes were closed and her head was lolled back. She had passed out.

"Maeva!"

"She'll be fine! Help me swim her over there Bryn!" Karliah yelled, pushing off and dragging the two with her. Bryn helped her paddle over, letting her get onto dry land and pull the woman up with her while Brynjolf pushed. Once the Breton's body was far enough, he jumped up and rushed to her side.

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"I don't know Bryn; whenever she was bleeding out in the woods I had a ton of healing potions. I don't have anything left after all the Falmer."

Brynjolf wanted to punch the wall out of frustration. He couldn't let Maeva die, not like this, not by Mercer's hands! He had killed Gallus out of cold blood and had attempted Maeva's life once before, he wouldn't let him get away with it. Remembering something he had learned from a passing priestess when he was a child, the Nord placed both of his hands over the Breton's wounds and closed his eyes in concentration. He hadn't used restoration magic since he was a small boy. He wasn't even sure if he still had the gift, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice. He had to try or Maeva would die.

Putting in everything he could, Brynjolf soon felt the warmth of healing in his hands and opened his green eyes to see the faint golden glow slowly mending the stab to Maeva's stomach. It was slow, so slow that he was worried it might not help at all, but as soon as it started to clot and scab over, he knew she would be okay.

Karliah fed him Magicka potion after Magicka potion to keep the flow going, and no matter how foul it tasted, the man wasn't going to complain. It was helping and Maeva was breathing normally. By the Divines, she was going to live.

He only stopped once his body couldn't take healing anymore and he was forced to sit back and rest, his breathing heavy. But the wound was heavily scabbed over, and that's all that mattered.

"She's going to live," Karliah mumbled happily, moving a wet strand of hair from the silver haired woman's face.

"It'll leave a nasty scar, I'm no healer."

Karliah chuckled and gently brushed the scar on Maeva's exposed neck. "I don't think she'll mind it."


	16. Key

When Maeva woke up next, it was because of a sharp pain in her abdomen, as if someone had hit an especially sore part of her body. The Breton yipped in pain, her arms going to cover said spot, and her dark blue eyes opened.

"Sorry there Maeva, I guess I pressed a little too hard," the familiar voice of Delvin sounded before his bald head came into view.

"You think?" she groaned, holding her bare body tighter as the ache slowly faded away, "I'm guessing I'm back in our hideout?"

"That you are, back into the safe hands of thieves," the Breton said with a grin, though it slowly faded away as his eyes drifted to Maeva's wound, "I heard Mercer did this to you."

The silver haired woman nodded her head, wincing as she tried to make herself more comfortable. She wasn't even going to attempt to get up. "That he did. I thought that both our bodies were going to be left back there."

"You know Bryn would never let that happen."

At the mention of the Nord's name Maeva smiled, though like Delvin's, it didn't last long. "He and Karliah came back fine too, right?"

"Of course. Only a few wounds that easily healed on their trek back. They were more concerned about your gaping wound."

"Another scar to add to the collection," the Breton woman sighed, letting her hand find the tender skin, skin so new you could see the veins under it.

"I'm just glad to see you alive Maeva," Delvin's voice said, though it was soft and filled with sadness, causing Maeva's blue eyes to dart to him, "Even when you were back in the safety of the Cistern, you were in bad condition. Bryn did a fabulous job of healing you, but it had become infected. We really didn't know if you were going to make it."

"It's okay Del," Maeva said softly, her eyes locking with his, "I'm alive and Mercer's gone, that's all that matters right now."

"You're right," the Breton male said, though something passed his eyes that made him smirk, "Boss."

Maeva's big, blue eyes blinked up at her friend a few times before a smile broke out on her face. "I forgot all about that. I'm really the Guild Master?"

"Everything in Skyrim is in order, and Brynjolf sure as hell doesn't want the job. I think you deserve it after everything you've done for us."

"You guys are my family, I'd do anything for you."

"And we'd do anything for you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get that Nord and tell him you're awake. I've had enough with this sharing of feelings. Don't move."

"I didn't plan on it," Maeva said with an eye roll. She heard the man chuckling all the way to the Flagon.

Looking all around the Cistern, she noticed that there were few people in the room at all. All that were lay in their beds, sleeping. Some of the thieves she saw she hadn't even seen before. So, they truly were growing.

Feeling stronger than she had earlier, the Breton attempted to sit up, though it was a very slow and painful process. It involved moving her body up one agonizing inch at a time, and many curses under her breath. She hadn't expected the closed wound to hurt this much, but by Nocturnal was it a bitch.

Sweat had started to bead on her brow, showing how much of her depleted strength it was taking, and she was so close to being sat fully upright when a large hand moved to her back and helped push her back into position.

With her blue eyes closed, the woman was left to pant in pain and exhaustion for a moment before she had the energy to look at who had helped her. When she saw concerned but happy green eyes, Maeva couldn't help but smile.

"Hello Bryn," she said softly, one of her bare hands going to rest against his cheek. He smiled back at her and placed his much larger hand over hers.

"I'm so glad to see you awake."

"I'm just happy to be alive," the thief admitted, counting herself extremely lucky to be in this shape.

"I told you I wasn't going to let Mercer take you away from me again; I meant that."

"Where did the Eyes and Key go?" Maeva said, turning her head slightly as she blushed; something she never thought she would do because of Brynjolf.

"They're safe with us, don't worry," he said, smile in his voice and on his face, "The only thing you need to worry about right now is getting better. You look in a right bit of pain."

"The skin's still a little thin," the Breton said, her hand dropping from the Nord's face so she could place it over her smooth wound. She would have blamed her lack of a shirt on Delvin, but they had left her with her breast band, so she assumed the bandage had just been taken off.

"Probably would have healed faster if I was better at Restoration magic," Brynjolf sighed, eying the skin paler than her already pale skin.

"Master of magic or not, you saved my life Brynjolf," Maeva confessed, looking back into his green eyes, "I can never repay you for something like that."

"Just stay alive until I die and that'll be payment enough," the redhead joked, the humor coming back into those mischievous eyes. Maeva laughed along with him until a yawn broke from her mouth, ending their silent chuckles.

"Go ahead and rest. With you awake, I think I can actually get a good night's sleep for once."

"Then carry me to bed," the Breton said simply, though Brynjolf gave her a confused glance.

"You're already in a bed."

"Not our bed. And you must be crazy if you think I'm not going to have you always by my side while I heal."

A huge grin lit up the Nord's face that turned into an even brighter smirk as he did as he was told, carefully picking up the woman.

"I can fulfill that request," he said softly, turning on his heel and heading to the room that they had spent many nights together.

Placing her gently on the bed, he soon joined the woman under the blankets after stripping his armor. Pulling Maeva close to him, he lightly draped his arms over and around her, his eyes feeling heavier already.

"I love you Maeva."

"I love you too Brynjolf."

Healing after that became easier. With the Breton now awake and talking, she could down health potion after health potion to speed up the process. And when they were alone, Brynjolf read up more about Restoration and used all his magic he could on the scar. In only a few days' time, it was another scar to add to her collection, though it was still pink.

With Maeva back on her feet and almost to 100%, Karliah had called them all to a little meeting in one of the training rooms, having barred it off to anyone but the three Nightingales. She commented on how well Maeva was looking before going on to the more pressing matter.

"There's still the Key to worry about," she said frankly, pulling the Skeleton Key out of her pocket and letting the flame in the room catch on the metal.

"Well, we obviously return it," Bryn spoke up, red brow cocked, "Nocturnal wasn't pleased with Mercer keeping it, we'll be no exception."

"Of course we return it, but… I can't return it. Not after disgracing the Lady so horribly."

"Returning it will put you back into her graces, though," Maeva stated, "She'll forgive everything, especially since Mercer is dead."

"You did all of that," the Dunmer said, her true meaning coming into the light, "I brought you before our Dark Lady, but it was you that did all the work. You killed the traitor and you were the one to rescue the Key. It should be you that returns it."

"We're not letting the lass go by herself," Bryn said, voice stern as his green eyes narrowed, "She may be healed, but she should still take some time to heal. We can't just dump this all on her. We'll all go and let her return it."

"You would leave the Guild like this, just to escort her to Nocturnal?" Karliah questioned, voice just as hard, "While preparation is made for Maeva's move to Guild Master, there is still much work to be over seen and done. You can't just leave in the middle of this, or I would have asked you to come."

"I'll be fine," Maeva said, finality in her voice though Brynjolf didn't agree, "Karliah will escort me there herself and make her own way in while I return the Key. I will be safe under the watch of Nocturnal."

"If you promise to be safe and come back with no other scars… then I can live with your decision."

"I promise. We'll pack now and head out as soon as possible. Must not let Lady Luck wait."


	17. Gallus

Even as a ghostly spirit, he felt so tired. Tired enough that he had tried to sit on the steps behind him, but found that he couldn't. All he could do was walk, stand, and guard. Like a Sentinel was supposed to do. They never needed rest because they were spirits, bound by the promise made to Nocturnal to serve, until their time was up.

However, things had not been the same for a long time now. Too long. He could feel himself slipping away ever so slowly. When you were dead, you lost most concept of time. A minute could feel like an hour, or a week could feel like minutes. Especially when things were going horribly wrong in the Twilight Sepulcher.

However, a woman in Nightingale armor came into the caved out haven like a gift from the Goddess of Darkness herself. Though she was shadowed in mystery, she had the essence of home, of a sibling that the ghost never got the chance to meet. No, he did not know this woman, but he knew he could trust her.

Maeva slowly approached the ghostly being, having had come across many who were more than violent, but the glowing man seemed content to watch her until she approached him.

"I don't recognize you," he started off, "but I sense that you are one of us. Who are you?"

"I could ask the same of you," her rough voice questioned, more than weary of the being before her. The Breton really didn't need another scar adorning her body.

Even if she couldn't see it, he smiled anyway. Thieves never were the trusting type. "The last of the Nightingale Sentinels, I'm afraid. I've defended this Sepulcher alone for what seems like an eternity."

The last part of the man's speech sounded sad, like he had just remembered that he was alone. Maeva could feel for him.

"I hope I do not have to fight you, Sister. I've had enough betrayal in my servitude."

"I am only here to help. What betrayal do you speak of?" the silver haired woman asked, though she was sure she already knew the answer. Mercer had a way of messing up everyone's lives.

"Betrayal by our own kind," the Sentinel started off, ghostly fists clenched, "In fact, I'm to blame for what's happened here. I had been blinded. Blinded by dark treachery masquerading as friendship. Perhaps if I had been more vigilant then Mercer Frey wouldn't have lured me to my fate and stolen the Skeleton Key."

Just as Maeva had guessed, the dead man had a part in this; but his last few words were the ones that shocked her. He'd been lured to his death by the man blinded by money and greed?

"You're Gallus," she whispered, though it was so quiet and empty in the Sepulcher that Gallus heard it. However, he seemed just as shocked.

"I… haven't heard that name in a very long time. How do you know of me?"

"I'm a part of the Thieves Guild. A certain redhead Nord I know talks about you all the time."

Gallus couldn't keep that smile off his face. "Bryn. I had forgotten all about my other life, about how happy I had been as a thief. I never thought after all this time I would still be remembered…"

"Brynjolf thinks about you every day, I know that for a fact," Maeva announced, knowing it to be true, "About how great of a Guild Master you were, of how you were like a father… and of your death."

"It haunts him to know I was killed," Gallus said, sounding guilty, "Worse, by my own friend."

"I tracked him down in your honor, Gallus. Found Mercer Frey, killed him, and took the Skeleton Key." Maeva pulled out the Key and Gallus's eyes lit up.

"The Key! You have the Skeleton Key! I never thought I'd see it again. It's over… my death wasn't in vain."

"Your life shouldn't have been taken in the first place," Maeva growled, just thinking about the treacherous bastard.

"I coped with my death a long time ago, Nightingale. But for coming to return the Key, I owe you a great deal."

"I did this to honor you and the Guild. I may not have known you, but everyone talked wonders about you. I gladly put my life on the line."

Gallus smiled again, and found himself charmed by the young woman in front of him. How long had it been since he smiled? Many a year.

"You've done the Guild a great deed. And although they may not show it, I'm certain they appreciate your sacrifices. My only regret is that you had to undertake this task alone, one that had nothing to do with you."

Maeva shook her head, taking off her mask and cowl so she could show him how serious she was. "I didn't do this alone. I had the help of not only Brynjolf, but Karliah as well."

"Karliah is still alive? I had feared this whole time that she had befallen the same fate, ending up a victim of Mercer's betrayal. I'm glad that she lived. It brings peace to my heart to know she still lives."

"She's very much alive, I have to say, but she was too ashamed of having failed Nocturnal and you that she left returning the Key to me."

"I never blamed her for my death…" Gallus said softly, thinking back fondly of the Dunmer woman, "she should know that."

"I'll make sure she does. In the meantime, I think it's time you returned the Key, Gallus."

"Nothing would bring me more pride than to return the Key, but I'm afraid it's impossible."

Had Mercer done something to the Sepulcher to make returning the Key impossible?

"From the moment I arrived here, I've felt myself… well, dying," Gallus continued, "The Sepulcher isn't merely a temple or a vault to house the Key. Within these walls is the Ebonmere, a conduit to Nocturnal's realm of Evergloam. When Mercer stole the Key, that conduit closed, severely limiting our ties to her."

"Then I once again have to proceed alone," Maeva sighed, hating how messed up this whole situation was. It would be nice to have a companion at her side to help her with this task.

"I'm afraid so," the man apologized, "I'm weakening and I can feel myself slipping away. The years without the restoration of my power have taken their toll."

"Will you be alright once I return the Key? Will you even make it that long?"

Gallus chuckled, a very happy sound, and nodded at the Breton. "I will be. Whatever damage has been caused can only be corrected by following the Pilgrim's Path to the Ebonmere and replacing the Key."

"What do I face along Pilgrim's Path?"

"I wish I could help you, but I've been a prisoner in this very chamber for a quarter of a century. The only possible help I've come across are the remains of some poor fellow who was trying to follow in your footsteps. Perhaps his journal can help? He perished right over there."

Maeva's eyes followed where the man was pointing and nodded her head, knowing that dead travelers offered a great deal of help. However, she wasn't done talking to the former Guild Master.

"What's wrong with the other Nightingale Sentinels?"

"A horrible fate they live," the man mused, "With the Ebonmere closed, and their sudden severance from the Evergloam, I fear they've undergone a drastic change. They're shadows of their former selves. They no longer remember the true purpose of their original identities."

"Why were you the only one spared?"

"My spirit didn't manifest itself in the Sepulcher immediately because of my murder, so fortunately I wasn't present when the Ebommere was sealed. Since that day, however, I've felt my power waning, slowly draining away. So I might have ended up like them, had you not come along."

"I'll return the Key and return you to what you should be Gallus. It's the least I can do for you."

"Thank you, Nightingale," he laughed softly, "You've done so much for me and I don't even know your name."

"Maeva," the Breton said with a soft grin, "My name's Maeva."

"Well then, Maeva. I wish you luck on the journey. And when you return to the Guild… Tell Brynjolf I miss him too."

"He'll like that," Maeva said softly, nodding her head.

"Shadows guide you, child of the night."

"Shadows guide you, Gallus."

* * *

Maeva winced in pain for what seemed like the thousandth time in less than five minutes, once again pulling another arrow from her armor. Those other Sentinels, though all spirits, had weapons that were more than real, and did they have a fight to pick with her or what.

Still newly Nightingale, Maeva had some trouble with them, but had managed to kill them all without getting seriously damaged. None of the arrows had punctured her skin, only sticking into her armor and leaving developing bruises. The ones who used swords and daggers were unable to cut into her skin because the metal they had used had been rusted with years of not being used. Maeva was a lucky Breton indeed.

One of her saving graces happened to be the journal that Gallus had pointed out to her, the one that described, though in little detail, how she should venture through the path. While Maeva might have been sneaky, she hadn't expected so many tricks. The biggest one having been to walk only in the shadows. Direct but indirect indeed.

Checking the suspiciously easy room, Maeva had thrown a pot into her path, watching as it shattered before her. Everything seemed safe, which was weird, but that was until her eyes found a piece that had landed in the light of the room.

It was sizzling. Like it had been set on fire and was combusting, the pot piece was sizzling. Not too long after, it exploded and turned to ash. Maeva's blue eyes were wide. That could have been her skin!

Oh, her Nightingale buddies were going to hear all about this. She'd ignore them for weeks, leaving her alone to do this task. She'd be glad if she never had to see this unforgiving place again!

"I'm getting really sick and tired of this place," Maeva hissed, annoyed at the contrast of dark and light, annoyed at the dark Sentinels, and annoyed that she ached beyond measure. Was it too much to ask to be in bed with a certain Nord, curled up in his warm arms as they slept? Apparently so.

Once again, the Breton passed through another door, though it was almost pitch black in the room. Damn her and her non-existent abilities at magic. Some kind of Breton she was.

As she continued to muse on her misfortunes, another occurred before she even had a chance to stop it. One that she would never live down in her entire life, even if she never told a living soul.

She fell. Maeva had continued to walk and walk and walk until she couldn't walk anymore. _Because there was a god damn hole in the floor_. A deep one at that.

As soon as the woman was walking on air, she had let out a girly scream as she tumbled, landing on the hard stone below with a dull sound that didn't show how much it had hurt. She was aching on her right side, but on inspection, nothing was broken. Well, at least she had a little luck.

That's what she thought, until her eyes adjusted and she could see that there was no way out, and she was alone with a skeleton that had befallen the same fate.

"I'm going to die in here," she whined, resting her head against the wall, angrily taking the key from her bag, "And it's your entire fault, you stupid Key!"

As if the Key had heard her, and had taken much offense, the floor below her dropped, changing from hard stone to silky sand. The drop wasn't as long, but it was just as surprising as the last and caused Maeva to scream again. This time, she landed right on her ass.

"I'm not leaving the Cistern for a year," she groaned, having her fill of caves and Daedra of the like.

Pushing herself off the ground and kicking the useless skeleton away, Maeva could clearly tell what lay on the ground. It was all carved intricately, a beautiful piece that all flowed together in the middle, where there was just one little thing missing. That thing being the Skeleton Key.

"Time to be rid of you," Maeva grumbled to herself, kneeling so she could lock the key in place. The metal fit in snuggly like it had with no other lock she tried—honestly, you expected the woman to never have tried it?—and it seemed to hum with life, having finally been returned to where it belonged. The design on the floor glowed dimly, giving more life to the place, and the silver haired woman moved back until she was no longer on the design. She only inspected it for a moment until her blue eyes wandered.

"How the hell am I supposed to get out of here?"

She only had a minute or so to ponder the thought, looking back up from where she had fallen, before the floor once again started to change, though this time it rose instead of falling.

The Key rose like a tiered platform while the rest of the design spread out, going out to make three rocky points that framed the tiers, which suddenly turned into a murky portal. Not having enough time to wonder what it was for, Maeva's eyes widened as ravens flew out in a flurry, though they were gone in a second to be replaced with someone who had only been a voice and a statue to the Breton before. Nocturnal's gaze turned to the stunned Nightingale, sobering her up enough to stand straight in front of her Daedric Prince.

"My, my, what do we have here? It's been a number of years since I've set foot on your world. Or perhaps it's been moments. One tends to lose track… Once again, the Key had been stolen and a 'Champion' returns it to the Sepulcher."

"Of course, my Lady," Maeva said respectfully, bowing her head at the being before her, as not to anger her.

"Now that the Ebonmere has been restored, you stand before me awaiting your accolades; a pat on your head… a kiss on your cheek."

Honestly, Maeva just wanted to get the hell out of here. But she definitely wasn't going to say that to the dark goddess before her. Not unless she wanted to die at a young age, though this time for sure.

"What you fail to realize," Nocturnal continued, sounding more than bored, "is your actions were expected and represent nothing more than the fulfillment of your agreement."

Well, that was certainly a nice thank you. Not like she expected much from a Daedra, though…

"Don't mistake my tone for displeasure," Nocturnal voiced, like she had heard the Breton's thoughts, "After all, you've obediently performed your duties to the letter. But we both know this has little to do with honor and oaths and loyalty. It's about the reward; the prize."

She was actually going to get something out of all this? Tickle her surprised. Maeva had only guessed she would be spared her life. Maybe she was luckier than she seemed. But, after all, she was dealing with the woman who influenced luck.

"Fear not, young one; you'll have your trinkets, your desire for power, and your hunger for wealth. I bid you to drink deeply from the Ebonmere, mortal. For this is where the Agent of Nocturnal is born. The Oath has been struck, the die had been cast and your fate awaits you in the Evergloam. Farewell, Nightingale. See to it the Key stays this time, won't you?"

Just like that, Nocturnal was gone, back to Oblivion the same way she had come, though her portal still glowed around the darkened room, though it had help from another portal that lead who knows where. Hopefully out of here. But Maeva was alone again. Or so she thought.

"I'm glad you were able to bring the Key back safely," Karliah's familiar voice said. Maeva held in the scream that wanted to come out, but jumped at the sound.

"Karliah, don't _do_ that!" the blue eyed girl sighed, holding a hand over her chest. The Dunmer only grinned and continued on with her thought, having been summoned by Nocturnal since she arrived on their plain.

"Nocturnal seemed quite pleased with your efforts."

Maeva blinked her big blue eyes at her mentor. "Pleased? She sounded indifferent. She could have been furious for all I know."

"I wouldn't take her tone to heart. It's her way. She's like a scolding mother that pushes you along, acting angry but pleased none the less. However, if she had been displeased with you, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"At least she spared me," Maeva spoke wistfully, "And what was that thing about the Agent of Nocturnal?"

"These three moons on the floor represent different powers that Nocturnal gives. One lets you cloud the judgment of those around you, letting you use them as puppets. Another grants you the power to drain the life of an enemy and gain it in return. And the last grants you a great amount of time of invisibility. All great for the life of a thief."

"It's going to be a hard choice," Maeva pouted, a finger to her chin in thought.

Karliah chuckled and was about to retort to the younger woman's announcement, but was interrupted by the sound of her name being called by someone. Someone who had died a long time ago.

"Karliah?"

"Gallus?" she replied, shocked to see his ghostly form. They walked towards each other, meeting in the middle, and Maeva stood in the shadows to give them peace.

"I feared I would never see you again," Karliah's accented voice went on, sounding full of tears but happy as well, "I was afraid you'd become like the others."

"If it wasn't for Maeva, your fears might have come true," the man said quietly, watching the young Nightingale trying to tune them out. "She honors us all."

"She is quite the amazing girl," Karliah trailed off, wanting to look at her pupil but her eyes were glued on her fallen lover. "What will you do now, my love?"

"Nocturnal calls me to the Evergloam. My contract has been fulfilled."

"Twenty five years later," the Dunmer almost said spitefully, shaking her head, "Will I ever see you again?" She was afraid of the answer.

Gallus stepped closer to Karliah, placing his spirit like hand against her cheek like he had years ago when he was alive. She was so warm against him; he would have done anything to regain his life so he could touch her with his own body and not his spirit.

"When your debt to Nocturnal has been paid," he whispered, "we'll embrace once again."

Tears were streaming down Karliah's eyes, though she had let them show on her face. It had been a long time since she had cried over him, but this time it was for all the good reasons. She smiled despite the wetness.

"Farewell, Gallus. Eyes open... walk with the shadows."

"Goodbye, Karliah."

With one last glance at her, Gallus turned his back and entered the portal in which Nocturnal had left, disappearing before their very eyes. It wasn't long after he was gone that Karliah let a sob escape her throat. With a sad glance, Maeva came to her and wrapped and arm around her shoulder comfortingly.

"His death is finally repaid," she cried out, shoulder shaking, "He can now be in peace. I can now be in peace."

With no words to say, Maeva only nodded her head and held the woman tighter as she cried and cried.


	18. Family

There was no way that Brynjolf could handle this kind of work. Not by himself anyway. It was too much for one person to handle. The Guild was back to what it had once been, with new thieves all around, which meant more work for them to handle and more papers for the leader to authorize. Brynjolf couldn't imagine how Gallus had been able to do all this, because it had him worn down. The Nord was happy though. Their family was growing again.

Though it seemed so empty without a certain scarred Breton woman. It had been about a day and a half since Brynjolf had seen either Karliah or Maeva, and their absence had made an impact. Even though it made him sound like a worry wart, Bryn hoped they were both alright.

"Ugh, I need to get my mind back on this paper work," the redhead muttered, shaking his head, "I never was good with organization."

With his very familiar quill, he started to write things down in the record book, his mind focusing on the ways they had been taken care of. It was so consuming, he was only able to focus on that and not the sound of someone walking up towards him.

The person cleared their throat, trying to get the second's attention. Broken concentration, Brynjolf growled and gripped the quill harder. "Sorry, I'm a bit busy. Try me another time."

"You're too busy for me?" the person purred, and the Nord's head shot up in recognition. A grin lit up his face when he saw what the Breton was wearing and how the gentle smile on her face made it glow.

"Lass…You look beautiful in that armor."

Maeva laughed, though the strange comment had made her blush. She turned in a circle for him, letting him see how the Guild Master armor fit on her body. He let a low sound emit from his throat and the Breton only laughed again.

Brynjolf moved around the desk and pulled the woman back into his arms, not hesitating to kiss her full lips. She smiled the whole time and held him tight, showing him how much she had missed him with her kiss. When they broke away, Bryn looked over her, a little concern in his eyes.

"Not hurt, are you?"

"No, the Sentinels didn't hurt me too bad," she chuckled, thinking back on the angry ghosts, "Actually, I feel better than I have in a long, long time."

"So, the Key is safe?"

"Returned it to Nocturnal and she was more than overjoyed," Maeva replied with an eye roll, "But she was happier than she seemed. I think the luck is back with us Bryn."

"I had a feeling it might have. Not too long after you left, I had some new recruits stop in and ask for entrance. I've heard of their heists across Skyrim. We've got great thieves with us now."

"Nothing is going to be safe in Skyrim," Maeva purred, giving Brynjolf a sultry look that undid him. He gave her his smirk and kissed her again. When they separated, he gave her a proud look.

"Gallus would have been proud of you. You've done us a great justice Maeva."

"I met Gallus, at the Sepulcher," the Breton replied softly, remembering what the spirit had said to her.

"You… You what?"

"He was guarding it as his duty to Nocturnal as a Nightingale," she continued, her deep blue eyes looking back at the past, "When I returned the Key, he was summoned to the Evergloam. Before he left, he told me to tell you something."

Brynjolf's large hands were holding onto hers tightly, his green eyes a little wide as his mind tried to process what she was saying. After a few moments of silence, he cleared his throat.

"What did he want you to tell me?"

"That he misses you just as much as you miss him."

His hands grabbed hers tighter, almost at a bruising strength, but Maeva held on just as tight. Though they weren't many words, they still meant a lot to her redheaded Nord. To him, it felt like a large chapter of his book had finally ended. He could close that off forever. They stood like that for a while, just staring and holding hands, until a small smile broke out onto his face.

It got bigger and bigger until he started to laugh and grabbed Maeva, pulling her into a tight hug as he lifted her into the air. She protested quite loudly until the man had sense enough to put her down. The smile shrunk some, but the happiness was all in his bright green eyes, something that the Breton had never seen before.

"Thank you Lass. That means more to me than you'll ever know. But enough of this emotional talk, we have business to take care of."

Maeva cocked one of her silver brows, watching as the man turned away and started to walk towards the center of the Cistern, prompting her to follow. "What do we have to take care of?"

"Did you think that there would be no ceremony for you lass?" Bryn questioned, turning around to give her an amused look. When she only looked at him with more confusion written on her face, he just yelled out into the echoing Cistern for everyone to gather.

"Ceremony for what?"

"For our new Guild Master. Words must be said, agreements must be made, and attention must be brought."

As if they had been informed before her, all the thieves came forward from whatever they were doing, going to spots as if they had been assigned them earlier. While Maeva stood in the center—though she had been placed there unconsciously—Brynjolf was in front of her. The thirds came forward as well and stood on either side of the second, though Delvin left an open spot next to him for Karliah, who only smiled.

"We don't really have to do this," Maeva hissed out, glaring at the grinning Nord as she felt everyone's eye on her.

"Oh, but we do lass. We really do."

"Bryn is right, Maeva. Not only is this tradition, but you've earned the recognition," Karliah pointed out, making the Breton lessen her glare.

"Are you ready?" Delvin asked, his ever present elfish grin still glued to his face. With a sigh, the woman only nodded her head, standing straight and tall.

"I'm ready."

"Being Guild Master," Brynjolf started, his loud voice reaching every corner of the Cistern to silence every other sound, "means more than just getting a cut of the loot. It's about being a good thief, friend and leader while still taking responsibility and keeping this rabble in order."

The whole building seemed to chuckle at that, smiles present on everyone's face. Brynjolf's only got louder as he went on, looking at his lover and new Guild Master and feeling something in his chest, as if it was becoming whole.

"After everything this lass had done for us, whether it be completing difficult quest, saving the Thieves' Guild, or restoring our family, I don't think the job should go to anyone else. With that in mind, I propose that the position of Guild Master be yours, Maeva. Delvin?"

The bald Breton nodded his head at Maeva, not even bothering to look at the redhead. "I wholeheartedly agree."

"Vex?" Bryn questioned again, his head turning to the blonde.

With hand on her hip, the Imperial let a sigh escape her mouth as she looked over the silver haired woman one last time before she too nodded her head. Even though she wouldn't admit it out loud, no one else deserved the spot. "Agreed."

"Karliah?"

"Absolutely," she said simply.

"With everyone in agreement, I now name you Guild Master to the almighty Thieves' Guild. We wish you good fortune and long life. Under your command, may you lead us to riches and success. Shadows guide you."

"Shadows guide you," the Guild said as a whole, their voices ringing out above the water, louder than Brynjolf's had, and warming Maeva to the very bone. They all bowed their heads in respect to the new Guild Master and she could only do the same, finding it silly that she had tears in her eyes.

When she stood back up, Karliah had walked up to her, mask still down so that Maeva could see the sincerity in her eyes as well as her own tears. The Dunmer wrapped her arms around Maeva and hugged her, laughing in happiness at the moment.

"Now the pupil becomes the Master."

"All thanks to you, Satha," she said quietly, wiping away a stray tear, "you were my family and you lead me to an even bigger one."

"You deserve it all, little one," Karliah whispered, hugging her friend one last time before she pushed her towards a waiting Brynjolf.

The Nord waved to her in thanks and turned his attention back to Maeva, looking down at her softly. "So, what do we do now boss?"

"The plan," she started, that familiar mischievous look on her face, "is to perform the biggest heist Skyrim has ever seen."

The second rose one red brow at that, giving his new leader a questioning look. "That's a big job to fill. How do you expect to do that?"

"I'm not sure, but with this much power and cunning, everything is possible; it'll just take some time."

Brynjolf chuckled and ran a hand through Maeva's hair, bringing them a little closer. "And what do we do while we wait?"

"The first thing I'm going to do," Maeva whispered, letting her lips brush across his, "Is take you to the back room and let these nimble fingers rob you of your clothes."

"Rob away, Lass."

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's it guys! The end of the story. I hope you all enjoyed the ride and liked the story. If you miss my Skyrim writing, I do have another story going on, as well as a one-shot, and I'm working on a couple more stories that you might be interested in. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, and I hope to see you again reading my other stories. Ciao 3  
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